


Talk to God

by lumarkfan



Category: NCT (Band), Super-M, WAYV
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn with some plot, Shower Sex, Smut, Threesomes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26257219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumarkfan/pseuds/lumarkfan
Summary: Mark and Donghyuck have an old rotary phone they use to talk to ghosts, to the dead, even God.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Lee Jeno, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 14
Kudos: 61





	1. the premise

Donghyuck's story begins with heartbreak. 

Except it isn't his own heart that breaks, but Mark's. Donghyuck moves around in his bed, tries to hide his head under the pillow, even covers his ears with his hands but their apartment has thin walls and he can hear the muddled conversation in the next room over. Mark talks, then Johnny talks, then Mark talks some more. It usually goes this way — except at night there's less talking and more sounds of the mattress squeaking and shifting — but this morning the talking never quite ends. 

Donghyuck stares at the wall and thinks he can make out the words tapping against it, teasing him with information that he can't figure out and words he can't decipher and annoying little sounds that won't let him sleep in and Donghyuck glares at the wall like he could stop the conversation. Maybe if he focuses enough, he thinks, and squints his eyes, forces his entire face to twist into a scowl like telekinesis might sprout from his brain if he frowns enough. A beat later, the voices end and Donghyuck smiles, even sighs quietly but then a sniffling sound presses up against the wall and seeps into his room and Donghyuk knows that cry. It isn't the kind of crying Mark does when they watch movies and an animal gets hurt, and it isn't the crying he does when the protagonist overcomes all their hardships, and it definitely isn't the crying when Mark gets scared or finds a cockroach in his shoe or even when he saw a dead dog in the road last week. This is the crying that comes from inside, from what Donghyuck imagines to be Mark's feelings shifting and rearranging inside of him like a complicated landscape that pushes out tears for the sake of a cleanse. This is the crying Mark does when things end, definitively. 

Donghyuck sighs again, for a different reason. The sniffling keeps growing and then Mark is sobbing, quietly but sobbing and Johnny's voice comes up again, uncomfortable and a little tense but fine. He shouldn't be fine making Mark cry, Donghyuck thinks, and he wants to bang on the wall and call him an asshole but instead he turns on his back, looks at the ceiling, then closes his eyes. 

The first heartbreak he remembers was back in grade school, in the first grade. Mark had fallen in love with a girl who wanted nothing to do with him or anyone else. She wanted to pick dandelions and eat the seeds one by one, picking the white hairs like other people picked the petals off of flowers, and Mark had done that, too. He tried hard to get her attention, eating the dandelions close to her with his little face crumpled in disgust as Donghyuck sat to the side and blew on his own dandelion, watched the white seeds disperse. The girl kept moving farther and farther away and Mark looked close to crying as he tried to eat them closer and closer until he gave up, spit them out, twisted his hands into tiny fists and looked at the sky and roared — he was going through a baby lion phase — and then ran to Donghyuck. That was the first time he cried the way he did, with all of the strength of his body, and that was the first time Donghyuck had to hold him and rock him, his arms moving on their own accord almost as if protecting Mark was a natural instinct. They survived for the rest of recess, and by the end of the day, Mark was his usual self, laughing and smiling, pointing out butterflies as they walked home. 

That should have been the only time Mark had his heart broken, Donghyuck thought. His heart should have closed up and hardened and made Mark cautious of anyone or anything but Mark never acted the way Donghyuck predicted. He moved through the world like everyone was a possible friend, with a bright smile, an open heart, wide eyes at the thought of any possibility and that made the second heartbreak much easier. They were in middle school by then and instead of eating dandelions, this boy played soccer. Mark tried out for the school team, made it, fumbled around the field like he'd just learned he had two legs — puberty was kicking his ass — and Donghyuck, supportive as always, watched from the bleachers during practices with sunglasses on and a Gatorade in the biggest size it came in. He drank it from a straw, kept another Gatorade in a makeshift cooler — his backpack emptied of books and filled with ice — so when Mark was done running from one end of the field to another, he could climb up the bleachers and collapse with his head in Donghyuck's lap. Donghyuck would unscrew the cap of the Gatorade, tilt it by Mark's lips so he could drink it until he hummed and Donghyuck would tilt it away, and they did this for a half hour until Mark had enough energy to walk home. 

This lasted for two more weeks until Mark gave up, threw his uniform in the trash, stomped around the house and yelled about how nobody could ever make him go through hell like that again, not even Kang Daniel, the captain he'd fallen in love with and now fell out of. Donghyuck had nodded, hummed to himself as he took the uniform out of the trash and put it in the washing machine, then dryer, then returned it the next day to the school so Mark's mother wouldn't have to pay to replace it. It seemed like the end for a while until Donghyuck heard Mark crying — they slept in bunk beds back then, after the incident — and Mark was curled up on the bottom one and Donghyuck, always by instinct, as if he had been born to console Mark naturally, climbed down and silently wrapped his arms around Mark. 

"I'm not good enough," Mark whined, drenched in teenage angst, in all the troubles that come with growing up and falling in love and feeling stuck between two worlds, and Donghyuck shook his head, wiped away his tears with the plush lion Mark kept hidden in the corner of his bed. 

"You're more than enough, you're great," he answered, and though Mark shook his head, though he wanted to fight Donghyuck's words, he settled. He went quiet, fell asleep, and Donghyuck spent another hour making sure he was unconscious and would wake up the next day rested before he climbed back into his bed and passed out. 

Then Mark's heart did close for a while, though not entirely. It felt like watching a flower hide suddenly from the sun, shy, tender, like his heart had to heal. The next heartbreak came after high school, in September, but it wasn't a heartbreak at all, not really, not the first time. Mark went on a single date that went terribly and he'd come home to tell Donghyuck about it. Donghyuck sat on the couch and listened to Mark explain how a single, uncomfortable hour that day had now ruined his life forever. His heart was broken — Mark cried to prove it — and Donghyuck had held him just like he'd held him all those other times. Except this time felt different, this time Donghyuck's heartbeat with something more than friendship. Holding him then, Donghyuck was sure he'd memorized how Mark's heart worked, who he went for, how it beat loudly and wildly and lovingly, how it raced when Mark flushed with color and how it slowed when he slept and just as he pulled away from Mark to tell him, the doorbell rang. Mark got up, flew to the door and Donghyuck went into the kitchen and splashed his face with water. 

Mark came back with pizza in his hand and a wide, wide grin. Donghyuck knew this grin — knew them all — but he recognized the thinned eyes, the cheeks rising to close them. He recognized the tilt in his smile, knew that love was settling into Mark in all the usual ways. Apparently boys that delivered pizza roamed high in Mark's list of people to date and he'd fallen in love. 

Out of all the other times, this one felt most like love — at least it unfolded that way. Two months after Mark turned nineteen, in October, he'd crashed into Donghyuck's roomed and told him about the first date with Johnny. He wasn't delivering pizzas anymore and had time on his hands and he'd chosen Mark to spend it with, shooting videos, making movies, or at least that's what Mark told him. He was nervous, Donghyuck could tell, and he remembers this night very well. That October had been humid and hot and he opened the window to let the breeze in. Outside, their entire town seemed to sleep, with only the occasional car driving by and the faint murmur of music somewhere nearby. Donghyuck had turned off all the lights and Mark, excited and nervous and shy, had asked Donghyuck for a favor. 

"I've never had my first kiss," he confessed and Donghyuck nodded, even opened his eyes to give Mark the satisfaction of surprising him as if they hadn't spent all these years and days doing everything together. If Mark did anything, Donghyuck knew, but he didn't expect what came after — Mark wanted to practice with him, and again, trying not to show the way his own heart raced, the way he flushed and his skin felt warm, Donghyuck nodded. In the dark, with the street lamps turning on outside, with the hum of cicadas and crickets or whatever other insect decided to sing for them, they practiced kissing for what seemed like hours — it was Donghyuck's second kiss — and when they were done, they had slept like old times, fighting over a blanket when the night turned cold. 

The next day, when Mark was going to have his first date, Donghyuck hoped he would come home crying. He'd never wished this — even when he missed Mark — and the thought surprised him. How could he wish evil on someone else? It felt selfish, even cruel, and despite trying to convince himself that he didn't feel that way, Donghyuck still watched the clocked and watched the door. He even held a pillow on the couch, as if practicing to hold Mark when he came home. Still, despite the mean thought, he hoped he got to console Mark, that Mark would need to be held in a way only Donghyuck would know how. 

But Mark came home with a smile and Donghyuck swallowed every word he meant to say.

He gets his wish now two years later, when Mark knocks on the door, doesn't hear an answer, and comes in anyway. Johnny has already left and though Mark keeps whispering Donghyuck's name, Donghyuck doesn't reply. He pretends to sleep, his arms tossed to the side, his legs bent — he even adds a little snore for effect — and Mark doesn't seem to mind. He climbs in and the bed shifts, Donghyuck swallows. Suddenly there's a body against him, curled up, still sniffling. This is when Donghyuck pretends to wake up and turns immediately to wrap his arms around Mark. Another heartbreak, and Donghyuck still knows how to hold him in a way that makes Mark sigh and put his hands over Donghyuck's. 

"Hi," he whispers and Mark doesn't turn around but Donghyuck knows he's smiling; it feels like the room lights up, the air feels pink, so pink. 

"Johnny and I broke up." 

Donghyuck hums, tightens his arms around Mark and Mark runs his fingers up and down Donghyuck's arms. It's the most natural thing, what makes the most sense, and he wonders if Mark will ever realize that. 

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yes, I am okay — why are you sleeping? It's ten in the morning." 

"I have to sleep before I work tonight."

"You got another job?" Mark asks, turns around in bed and now they're facing each other. Mark looks both happy and worried and curious, his eyes wide, dark. They hold entire galaxies in their sparkle. "Why do you work so much?" 

"Because we have to pay rent." 

Mark leans in, looks thoughtful. "Should I ask my mom to pay this month — I quit my job." 

"What — when?!" Donghyuck is awake now, sits up quick. Johnny's nothing but a memory now.

"Today, Johnny came over, I quit, we broke up — I'm joining a contest." 

"What? Wait — what the fuck is going on?" There's so much news in such a short time and Donghyuck feels dizzy, like the room is spinning, he might even pass out but Mark holds his shoulders and brings him down to the bed. He strokes Donghyuck's cheeks and Donghyuck almost melts but he closes his eyes and pretends to be unaffected. Maybe Mark knows how to touch him, too. 

"Just calm down, you need to rest, you need sleep — I'll sleep with you." Donghyuck still has his eyes closed, only feels the way Mark shifts and leans over and kisses his forehead. He's glad the room is still dark, with the curtains drawn over the windows because he must be red. He does as told, though, and relaxes, it's much easier with Mark around. "We'll fall asleep and I'll tell you when I wake up — I've got big ideas, I'm getting out of this town. I'm gonna win the contest, meet my idol, become a superstar, just watch."

Donghyuck just nods. He's tired, and Mark is soothing, and soon he's dreaming of another timeline, one in which he wasn't a coward, in which he'd confessed to Mark a long time ago. Instead of consoling Mark's heartbreak, he'd be consoling a bad dream, a bad day, small things that Donghyuck could undo with a kiss or three. Still, he musters up the strength to ask, "And Johnny?"

"Don't worry about him — it's just us now. Like it always is." 

Donghyuck nods, then settles after Mark gives him another kiss on the forehead. Maybe if he wasn't so afraid of heartbreaks, then his wouldn't end with one. He shifts one more time so their legs tangle. Mark is so close, just a breath away and he can make out Mark's breathing. He could close the distance so easily, he even rubs their knees together and he hears Mark chuckle, then exhale, then they're both asleep. Donghyuck dreams of Mark, a happy dream at first. They're at the train station and Mark has done it, has beat all odds and is ready to leave but when Donghyuck gets on the train to follow him, he can't. Then he sees Mark's smile in one of the windows as the train starts inching away and Donghyuck runs after it. Then it goes dark — even his subconscious doesn't want to picture it. Just the thought of it makes his heart hurt, and he wakes up with a tiny gasp to find Mark sleeping, his small face peaceful. Donghyuck reaches over and rests his hand on it, his palm against his cheek. Mark doesn't stir, keeps sleeping with the smallest hint of a snore in his nose. He's still there, and Donghyuck can sleep. 

-

The contest, Mark explains, is a talent contest. It requires a three minute performance of some kind, nothing beyond that. 

"And the prize is meeting that one famous YouTuber — Kai — and getting featured on one of his videos. Can you believe it? He's coming to this town, he's coming for me." Then Mark collapses on the couch, sighs, looks up at the ceiling and doesn't see the old light bulb but another future. If he can just get on a video with Kai, he knows he'd start his own, and catapulted by Kai's popularity, Mark would blow up. He's sure of it — what kind of videos he'd make is the least of his concerns — all he wants is that ad revenue, the sudden fans, the influx of income that could take him away from this place. 

It's not that he hates their town, it's that he wants to get out. There's something suffocating about a small town, as if he can only grow so much. He already knows everyone, knows every spot, the few bars here are familiar places and there's nothing new to do ever. 

Sometimes there's music shows and sometimes he goes to watch Donghyuck sing, but beyond that there's nothing left. He needs to get out, he wants to see the world — he wants to see snow, mostly. Snow, he thinks, might set him free. It'll be proof that life has changed and that he isn't stuck on the same three-year loop where he goes through the same emotions over and over and over, doing the same things, talking to the same people, just getting older and more tired and feeling less alive. 

He huffs, he sighs, and the couch shakes when Donghyuck sits next to him, right above his head. 

"You're in love with Kai." 

"I'm not." But he his, not on the surface, though, but sometimes when he's watching Kai — otherwise known as Kim Jongin — build Lego Batman sets, he feels an inkling of love bubbling up inside of him. It feels shapeless almost, like a school of fish are roaming his body and he can never trap them in words. It's just a feeling, a kind of desire for something more than these same boring walls and this same boring life. He's glad he quit shelving books and manning desks in the library, glad he doesn't tune guitars on the weekends, either. Mark just wants a few years of having to do very little of what he doesn't want — he wants to find himself. 

His face keeps changing expressions as he processes all his thoughts and when the room settles back into focus, Donghyuck is still there, staring at him with that tiny little smile like he knows something. Mark hasn't figured that out either, but when Donghyuck looks at him with this level of intensity, he feels something like that school of fish inside of him except they don't wriggle around as much. They seem to gather around his heart, eating away at any negative feeling or thought or heaviness from the day and leave heart feeling light, like it's been replaced by a balloon. 

He smiles back, then closes his eyes. One day he'll understand everything he feels and not have to guess at what it might be and Donghyuck will be the first person he tells. Maybe they'll see snow for the first time together. 

"Why do you want to get out of this town so badly?" Donghyuck asks, quietly this time and his fingers slip into Mark's hair and scratch at his scalp and Mark's body goes limp. He hates how he reacts, but loves the sensation, makes him feel like an overgrown cat and his heart races like it's trying to purr. Only Donghyuck manages to pull out these reactions from him, all the way from inside, like he's plucking them from his bones. 

"I don't know — I feel trapped," Mark murmurs, his body curls up. For a second he wants to ask Donghyuck to lay in bed with him so they can take another nap but Donghyuck is already dressed for his new job. Outside, November rages on with its stillness, and Donghyuck will spend all night stocking up groceries and manning the counter at the gas station. 

"Trapped by what?" His fingers dip around his ears and squeeze the lobe and Mark wants to whimper from how soft his feels. Even his spine feels liquid, like he's a second away from actually melting and he feels warm and Donghyuck's fingers feel nice around his ear, they climb up the shell of it, go back to sifting through his hair. 

"I don't know, I feel it, though. Don't you ever want to leave?" 

"Not really — I mean, I think about it sometimes. It's just not — I guess it feels impossible."

"It is, but this contest makes it possible. Trust me." 

"Are you sure about that?"

"Mostly, I'm still figuring out." 

"Maybe you should consult the phone," Donghyuck says and now both of his hands are in Mark's hair, pushing it back, combing it between his fingers and the tips of it drag over his scalp, massaging and Mark keeps warming up. He knows he must look flushed, must look embarrassed, and he has to pull away before his thoughts move southward and wonder where else Donghyuck's hands would feel good. 

It's these thoughts he always quiets, the desire for things to spill past the contours of friendship. For a few years, he's been dating Johnny, and the reason why these thoughts were bad was clear but now he isn't sure, and he doesn't want to think about it. He wants to get out of this town, and to get out of this town he has to win this contest, and to win this contest, he has to focus and find some talent. He sits up and Donghyuck is still looking at him so Mark looks around, stands up. 

"I'll consult the phone later — you can be here, if you want?" 

"No, I'll be busy all night. Just tell me how it goes in the morning." 

Mark wills himself to look at Donghyuck one more time, he tries to smile. He manages a nod; his heartbeat still races; his breaths are paced, but that's because he's holding most of them in. They gaze at each other for a while longer, speaking without words, the way they always have for as long as he can remember. 

"I'll see you, then," Mark says, and Donghyuck takes this as permission to leave. He stands up and Mark notices how long his hair is, how he's tied it in the back with a hair tie and he smiles, holds back any comment. He watches Donghyuck wave and leave, keys dangling from his hand. He locks the door from outside and Mark lets out a breath finally, groans, looks up at the ceiling and goes back to daydreaming. 

-

"Maybe this should be your talent," Johnny says and curls his finger and Mark's entire body trembles. 

They're in the parking lot of Johnny's gym, in his new car, and though they just broke up this morning and Mark's first rule had been to not be spotted together, Mark can't bring himself to break their routine. It's not like it'll matter, he thinks, because nobody in the gym knows him by name or face, he's mostly Johnny's shadow. He spots for Johnny and spends the rest of his time stretching against walls and machines and on mats and the only time he picks up weights is to do a few measly squats — he wants a bigger ass, wants the attention — but the fun part comes after. 

He ends up in the passenger seat of Johnny's new SUV, which he bought because the seats go down and he could store his band's equipment once he found a band to start, and like usual, Mark doesn't wear anything underneath his basketball shorts because he likes when Johnny gets impatient. Mark always leans the seat back until he's almost laying down and he puts his feet up on the dashboard so his shorts ride up against his thigh, settle on his hips and both his legs are bare. Johnny can never drive like this, with so much skin exposed next to him, so, to Mark's delight, the fun begins in the parking lot. 

Today he's pulled the fabric of the shorts to the side so he could slip his fingers into him, first one, then two, pumping them in and out slowly so Mark has time to clench around them, to get used to them. Two fingers shouldn't have him sweating but Johnny's fingers are so long, and they get so deep that even the slightest wriggle makes his spine flare up. He spreads his legs more and his feet slide along the dashboard and Johnny pushes his fingers in all the way until his knuckles are flush against Mark's rim and Mark's face crumples in pain and pleasure and he cries out, has to grip Johnny's wrist.

"Right there," he whispers, "Right there." 

Johnny takes the hint and scissors his fingers so Mark sees stars behind his eyelids — he tries to moan but nothing comes out and instead his mouth makes pathetic little circles as Johnny fucks him with his hand. His dick is out, hard, as are his balls, and he suddenly wants to be naked and drooling and full of Johnny so he tugs weakly on the wrist so Johnny pulls his fingers out. 

"Fuck," he says, his voice nothing more than a groan, and then tugs at his shorts, pulls them off so his naked ass is sliding over the leather seats and Johnny looks at him like he's never seen something so tempting. These two years, this has been Mark's favorite part of Johnny: the shameless way in which he looks at him. There is no confusion or doubt — Johnny wears every emotion on his face — and Mark bites his lip, watches Johnny take off his shirt so his tattoos are on display. He reaches over, drags a finger over them, and his hole pulses and feels empty but his hand wraps around Johnny's bicep and he looks up at him. They lean in, just a breath away from kissing again but Mark's phone rings and his eyes widen. 

"Hold on," he says but Johnny does anything but. His lips find Mark's neck and he leaves open-mouthed kisses that feel wet and warm on Mark's skin. He can feel his tongue drawing circles into his skin but he holds in the whimper in his throat, swallows it, and answers his phone. 

"Hi," he says and tries to push Johnny's head away but Johnny takes it as an invitation to kiss lower and lower, over his shoulder, on his arm, until his big hands are pulling up Mark's shirt. 

On the phone, a woman answers, "Hi, may I speak to Mark?" 

"S-speaking," he answers, tries not to breathe too loudly even as Johnny kisses his hip, then his stomach, then right above his navel and he stops kissing, instead he licks Mark's skin. He drags the tip of his tongue over it, circles his navel again then goes up higher and higher. 

"Hi — I'm calling from the contest you entered, SUPER-M?"

"Yeah, — um, hi. Yeah — I'm in that," he answers, closes his eyes so he can focus on her voice but that just makes the trail Johnny leaves on his skin feel that much wetter, and it feels cool when his mouth keeps moving. His free hand goes to Johnny's hair and he can almost feel the smirk against his skin. His nose drags over Mark and then Johnny pulls off, Mark inhales. 

"Yes, Mark, thank you for joining — I was calling because there's something missing. You left the talent section empty, what exactly will you be performing? We just need to know how to announce your slot." 

"Ah — yes —"

He doesn't get to answer. His breath hitches and he almost jumps when Johnny exhales over his nipple and wraps his lips around it with little warning. Then his tongue is on it, and it sounds obscene and dirty and the woman on the phone might hear it but Mark's hand tightens in Johnny's hair. He throws his head back because he feels warm all over the second Johnny starts sucking on his nipple, pulls off with a pop then clamps his lips around the other one. 

"E-everything," Mark manages to gasp into the phone. 

"I'm sorry? I don't think I heard you." 

Johnny grazes his teeth over Mark's nipple and Mark tries not to mewl, has to bite down his lip and his eyes feel teary from just this. He's naked except for the shirt bunched up around his chest and Johnny keeps gnawing on his skin like he's hungry. He knows Johnny has a big tongue, but it feels even bigger now as it drags across his chest, and he can almost picture his nipples glistening with how wet they feel, coated in Johnny's saliva, the skin around it red where Johnny starts sucking on them again, making little squeak sounds that fill up the car. 

"I — everything. Talent..." Mark's mouth hangs open and he makes no sound, his eyebrows furrow, he feels boiling hot because Johnny slips two fingers into him again and pumps them into him fast, fucking him like he's more stretched than he should be and they're so long that Mark almost feels them in his guts. His toes curl, he might cum just from this but he's trying so hard to focus on this phone call but he can feel his body going limp. 

"I'm sorry, you have to speak up — I can't quite hear you."

At this point, Johnny grunts, pulls off Mark's chest and takes the phone from Mark's hand.

"He said everything," Johnny says into the phone, his voice low and clear and then he hangs up and tosses Mark's phone on the seat. It falls to the ground and Mark opens his eyes and looks at Johnny like he's helpless. 

Johnny's fingers are all the way in but he keeps grinding them into him, curling them and Mark's afraid he'll look down and see those fingers bulging against his stomach — his entire body trembles with every movement, the corners of his eyes are wet with tears. Each time he grinds them in Mark whimpers; his hands go to Johnny's arms and he digs his fingernails into them. 

Then Johnny smiles that cocky little smirk, even tilts his head. Mark steals a glance at his toned arms, at the tattoos between his fingers and then he looks back up at him. 

"Let's break in the car," Johnny says, pulls out his fingers and Mark breathes a sigh of relief until he Johnny shoves three fingers in, practically stuffs them into his hole and Mark feels stretched and exposed and it hurts but feels good and Johnny grinds them all into him, pushes them in so deep that Mark's toes curl and every nerve in his body flares up because Johnny is there and Mark is sensitive and his body tightens, then goes slack. His dick throbs and spills out cum and Mark closes his eyes, his mouth hangs open. He's too satisfied to be embarrassed, so instead he cries out, comes down from his orgasm to see Johnny looking down. Mark follows his gaze to where Johnny pulls out his fingers out of him. 

Without hesitating, he brings them to his mouth, sucks them clean, looks at Mark the way Mark imagines demons must look at their prey because Johnny is evil for this. He just fingered him into a climax, in front of their gym, on the day they break up and Mark shakes his head. 

"Fuck you," he says but his voice is still a whimper and it has the opposite effect. Johnny pinches Mark's nipple, grins at him. 

"Oh, you're about to." 

-

They barely make it home. Six times Johnny wants to pull over and fuck Mark in the back — he's even brought some blankets and pillows, like he'd been planning it at some point — but Mark's only thought is that they can't be seen, they can't be caught. On any other day he would have let Johnny fuck him on top of the car but he already feels like a celebrity with the contest and celebrities don't fuck in broad daylight unless it's some exotic island getaway, so he makes Johnny drive. 

At first Johnny agrees, just pulls up the shorts so that his cock is out, hard and already leaking and it looks big pressed against his thick thigh and Mark reaches over to massage it. He trails his fingers over the shape, traces the veins, circles his fingers around the head so they get sticky and when Johnny looks over, he brings it to his mouth, tastes it. 

The taste has gotten better since he's made Johnny eat more fruits and he does it two more times, palming the part of Johnny's cock that isn't exposed, making it twitch and harden and heat up. It looks swollen, and it makes Mark's hole twitch but they're only halfway home and they keep hitting red lights and Johnny's the first to break. 

"Put your mouth on it," he says and reaches over to squeeze Mark's thigh — he's still naked from the waist down — and Mark feels flutters rising up in him. He's starting to harden again, and though he's done a good job cleaning up with his gym towel, his dick is leaking too and he has to press down on it with his hand to keep from doing something more. But Johnny's command makes it twitch and his entire body trembles — he's so fucking whipped — so he leans over and pulls the shorts further up and mouths along the shaft, running his tongue over the skin, tasting it before he breathes it in. 

He thinks this is enough, lapping at the tip, cleaning each bead of cum that gets squeezed out and he even wraps his lips around it and gives it a few weak sucks but Johnny's hand finds the back of his head. He tightens his grip in Mark's hair and pulls him off and Mark's eyes open so he can see the strands of saliva from the tip of his dick to his lips and this makes him want it more. Johnny pulls him until he's upright and then he tugs his own shorts down so his dick springs up, no longer stuck to the side of his thigh and Mark licks his lips. It looks wet, but not wet enough, and he barely has enough time to admire it before Johnny grabs his hair again and pushes his face back on it and Mark whimpers and takes it into his mouth, swallows around it. 

There's always a warm kind of satisfaction when he gives Johnny head because Johnny fucks up into him and holds his head down so Mark's forced to choke and feel full, so, so full of him. His lips are stretched wide and his throat feels tense every time he tries to swallow and breathe and saliva drips out of his mouth until he's drooling all over Johnny's cock. It's always been like this, frantic and desperate and Johnny's still shirtless so Mark runs his hands over his chest and squeezes it, feels up the muscle, doesn't care if they get caught or not because he's dizzy with pleasure. 

And then it ends — Johnny pulls him off and Mark thinks it must be time to blow him, for him to bob his head until he cums but he straightens up and wipes the spit from his chin and realizes they've made it. They're at Mark's apartment and his focus returns so he can figure out how to get up there and ride Johnny without anyone knowing, or without leaving a trace and he almost asks Johnny to climb up the fire escape into his apartment. 

Then he turns, watches Johnny pull on his shorts and his shirt and all his muscles tense and the sweat highlights each one and Mark feels weak. He doesn't have to hide anything, not now — as long as they don't leave a trace. He barely has enough focus to pull on his shorts, then his shoes, and Johnny doesn't make it easy. 

On the elevator ride up, Johnny pins him against the wall and holds his neck with both hands, his fingers covering nearly every inch of it. Mark looks up and instead of Johnny kissing him, he looks down and Mark feels small under that gaze, his knees are weak, his stomach is heavy. Their hips are pressed together and the thin fabric of gym shorts means Johnny's dick is right there, against his thigh, pulsing as his long fingers rub over Mark's jaw and tighten gently at his neck, as if holding him in place. 

The only reason he doesn't get on his knees to blow Johnny right there is because the elevator dings and they're on his floor and Mark has to teeter from side to side to hide his boner as he walks. Johnny doesn’t seem to care, even if his bulge is thick, even if his dick swings around in his shorts as he walks slowly behind Mark. 

Mark's glad the hallway is empty because at one point Johnny reaches over and tugs the back of his shorts down so Mark's ass is out and he squeaks, swats Johnny's hands away, barely makes it to the door with a pant. He's flushing as they stumble in and Mark pauses to remember when Donghyuck will be home — not for another two hours — and then he points to the bathroom. 

"Shower," he says, because they're sweaty and hot and they can't leave a trace if it all goes down the drain.

Soon Mark is pulling the shower curtain closed while Johnny turns on the water.

"Use lots of this," Mark says and hands Johnny the bottle of lube and they find their positions easy. Mark has his hands up against the tiled wall and his ass is out and Johnny runs his hands up and down his sides. His fingers slide with the water pouring over him and he inches closer, presses his cock against the small of his back. He taps it and Mark squirms, feels empty, and Johnny pulls him open with his hands and his hole closes around nothing. He pushes back and that's when Johnny spanks him, and it stings with the water between them, sounds like a wet smack and Mark's toes curl. 

Then Johnny slides in and Mark feels stretched from the moment the head pushes past his tight rim and spreads out his walls and he can almost see the shape of it in his head. His eyes are shut tight but there's the curve of the head, then the rest of it, hard and meaty and so hot. It pulses inside of him and Mark is dizzy, his mouth hangs open and Johnny cradles his hips. 

"Hold on," he says and his fingers tighten their hold on his skin and hold him in place as he starts rocking his hips back and forth, grinding into him Mark starts to see stars beneath his eyelids. He can feel his body start to go limp and his arms get weak so he lets them drop and presses his forehead against the tile. It feels so cold against his warm body, and he can hear the skin slap and Johnny's balls smacking against him. His entire body moves with each thrust into him and then Johnny pushes his head against the wall so that Mark has his cheek pressed against the tile and this makes him groan. Each time he fucks into him, Mark lifts his ass and hips until he's getting fucked while standing on the tips of his toes. The more Johnny pushes his face into the wall, the more his cheeks squish and his mouth hangs open and tiny mewls fall out of him, mixing with the wet sound of fucking. 

His eyes roll to the back of his head and for a second he thinks he'll pass out, so lost in pleasure that he almost doesn't hear the front door open and close. 

Mark opens his eyes, gasps, tightens up around Johnny's cock and Johnny groans. Mark reaches behind him to stop Johnny's hips and manages to put a finger on his lips and he's glad the shower is still running. They have no time to think, Donghyuck is already knocking at the bathroom door. 

"Mark?" 

His eyebrows furrow and he opens his mouth to answer, but Johnny pushes his hips forward, buries his entire cock into him and hits a spot that has Mark clawing at the wall. 

"Y-yeah?" 

"Hey man — can I sneak in here while you shower? I have to get ready for my next shift." 

Mark fixes his lips to say no but Johnny shoves his fingers into mouth, then says, in his best impersonation of Mark's voice, "Yeah, come in."

The shower seems to help the disguise because Donghyuck comes in without a question and the sounds of him brushing his teeth float around with the running shower. Mark thinks it'll end here, that Johnny will stay there, holding his hips, and he just has to stand with his heels raised until Donghyuck finishes but life is never that easy.

"Hey man, are you okay? With the whole Johnny thing?" Donghyuck says, then spits out toothpaste. Johnny pulls his fingers out of Mark's mouth and Mark coughs, almost groans, but holds it in. His eyebrows are tightly knit and it takes a second to breath in then out.

"Yeah, just fine." He almost sounds normal except for a high pitch at the end where Johnny decides to grind his cock into him. It's already pushed all the way in but Johnny seems intent on pushing it in even further, rotating his hips just enough so Mark feels completely stretched in every direction. His walls contract and he's sure he can feel Johnny's cock bulging in different places. He has to whine so badly, and just as he's about to, Johnny clamps his mouth shut.

Donghyuck spits out, then says, simply, "Cool." 

Then the faucet turns on and he's on to washing his face and this is when Johnny decides to start fucking into him again. It's still that grinding at first, twisting his hips in a circle so his cock stretches Mark's insides in every direction, and Mark's toes curl to the point that Johnny has to hold him up by the hips. But that doesn't seem to be enough because he grabs his hips in both hands and holds Mark a little higher — Mark holds on to the wall with both hands — and starts fucking into him properly, slow, but enough that little wet smacks fill the air. 

Mark can hear Donghyuck finishing up with washing his face and he knows he probably doesn't want to hear this, wonders what he must be thinking, but Johnny's dick is hitting all the right spots and Mark has to mewl. It comes out low, a gentle moan and he just knows Johnny is smirking because he pushes in faster, goes deeper. Mark's hole feels wet and warm and Johnny's cock throbs. 

"Dude — are you jerking off? Wait until I'm out of here." 

Part of him is glad Donghyuck doesn't know what's going on but it also means Johnny takes it as permission to faster. He pulls back until his cock almost slips out and pushes it back in and the sound is wet, the feeling is warm. He isn't sure if water is spilling into him or there's so much precum that it's slipping out but Mark's hole is wet and leaking and he puts his face against the wall again, scratches at it weakly up until Donghyuck calls him a pervert and leaves the bathroom. .

Then comes the sound of the front door closing and Johnny really gets into it. 

"That was hot," he grunts, not only fucks into him but pulls Mark back and forth, uses him like a human fleshlight and Mark cries out. He spreads his fingers over the tile and his legs bend and he can't touch the floor. It seems like it'll never end but then his toes meet the ground and Johnny buries his cock all the way in, as deep as it's gone and Mark hasn't felt so full. Then comes the cum — Johnny finishes inside of him and his cock pulses, spits out cum that makes Mark's eyes roll to the back of his head. It feels hotter now — boiling hot — and his entire body throbs like one big nerve. Johnny grabs a fistful of Mark's hair, pulls it back and Mark's body bends neatly. His face is pointed up, his mouth hangs open. He mewls quietly as Johnny tugs on his hair, then continues fucking him and it sounds even wetter now — a squelch each time their hips meet — and he knows he'll be sore but he likes the way his hole leaks and how Johnny's dick must be streaked with cum. He likes how it dribbles down his hole, feels much hotter than the water covering them both. 

Then Johnny lets go of his head and pulls out and gives Mark a firm little spank on his ass. 

"You're fucking cute," Johnny groans and Mark doesn't answer, instead smiles as he leans against the wall and thinks of how much he'll miss this.

-

Maybe it's the thought of Mark leaving or maybe it's hearing him jerk off in the shower but Donghyuck clocks into his new job in a certain mood. His body feels warm, and he feels inviting, curious. 

Doyoung is the first person to notice, but Donghyuck's known him long enough that doing anything more than working together would be weird. It doesn't stop Doyoung from pursuing, though.

"Hi, Hyuck — let's have a good shift together," he says, smiles from the counter and Donghyuck just looks at him without blinking. They stay like this, Donghyuck staring with no emotion as Doyoung gets smaller and smaller behind the counter, as if folding into himself and when Donghyuck is satisfied, he smiles at him. 

"Let's have a fantastic shift," he answers, disappears into the back. The truck door is already swung open and someone's already unloading the boxes from it. Donghyuck isn't sure who it is — he was promised he'd work alone — so he walks forward with slow steps, stands nearby, sets his hat down on one of the boxes. He doesn't move again until Jaehyun is facing him, smiling his crooked smile, somewhere between sweet and cocky.

Jaehyun is someone who pursues him, too, but in his own way. He always suggests getting dinner together and hanging out at odd times, never before midnight, always in secluded areas. Jaehyun is straight, but Donghyuck knows he's curious, and usually he gives Jaehyun the same cold treatment that he gives Doyoung but in the back of his mind he can hear the sounds of Mark jerking off and he can almost see it. He'd looked at the curtain and seen Mark on the other side in his mind and the imagery felt delicious and dirty — he shouldn't be imagining it in the first place but he can't help it. He's whipped, and his dick agrees. 

And since his dick can't have Mark, maybe he can wander. Part of him wants to get used to the idea of not having Mark around but that's the same part of him that feels sad and somber, like suddenly his life exists solely in minor key without Mark's lightness. He feels like half a person, and the way Jaehyun is grinning at him and how he brushes his hair back trying to look cool, Jaehyun might be a candidate for his other half. Maybe. 

"Hi," Donghyuck says then finds his gloves, shakes his legs and his arms and starts unloading the truck with Jaehyun. "I didn't know you were gonna be here." 

He knows Jaehyun from somewhere, maybe a friend of a friend, but no one really knows where Jaehyun came from. It's like he's always been there, like an enigma or a memory; some even theorize he's a vampire but he looks very human under the garish light of the truck. Everything is blue and washed out but Jaehyun looks almost golden, like he's glowing, and the small shirt he's wearing puts his very toned and very human body on display. Donghyuck watches as he takes the last of the boxes out. He sets it down, turns to watch Jaehyun reach up and his shirt rides up and Donghyuck looks away, flushing at the sight of so much skin. 

Other times he's good at seeming uninterested in anything beyond a handshake but he feels weak tonight. Every time he closes his eyes, he adds another detail to Mark in the bathroom — first it had been a silhouette and now Donghyuck adds water in splashes so that Mark's body glistens under the shower. But if he focuses enough, that body turns to Jaehyun's in a second. He breathes in, breathes out, ignores the twitch between his legs and when he looks up, Jaehyun is staring at him. 

Tonight, Jaehyun's smile feels like magic, shining even in this dim lighting and Donghyuck knows he'll do what's asked of him. 

"Hey, you sing, right?" he asks, and Donghyuck nods, does his best to look like he doesn't care about this night or this conversation or Jaehyun, but his eyes still dart around his figure, pick up details to carve out his fantasy of the shower. If he can't forget Mark, then at least he can find a bigger thing to obsess over. 

"I do."

"Cool — a friend of mine is performing. If you sing, you're into music — I'm going to go see them after my shift is done. I can wait around for you, we can go together?"

He doesn't panic, not outwardly, but he does feel his heart leap. Donghyuck feels such a loyalty to Mark and though he's never asked for it to be returned, he wonders if it's worth it. Mark has Johnny, Mark has dreams, and maybe Donghyuck has been orbiting around him for too long. Still, old habits are hard to shake, and he asks, "Can I bring a friend?"

"Uh, sure — that's fine," Jaehyun says. His voice sounds cheery enough but that smile slips up for a second and Donghyuck knows the invitation was for him alone, the kind of invitation that spills past a show and ends up in a car somewhere, maybe Jaehyun's apartment, maybe the state-line and a murder. Still, nothing Jaehyun wants, though Donghyuck still pulls out his phone and texts Mark if he wants to catch dinner. Then he puts his phone away, and to his surprise, Jaehyun and him keep talking. 

They talk about music and the upcoming contest and though Mark comes up briefly, they mostly glide into areas neither of them know much about. They talk about the stars, how they are born and die before their light ever strikes the earth and they talk about desert animals and lonely highways and how hard it was for Jaehyun to kick his smoking habit, and how Donghyuck might be developing a habit of his own. The conversation slips into the store, too, as they restock shelves and Doyoung even chimes in and Donghyuck isn't mad about it. Life feels good, life can feel good even if the phone in his back-pocket doesn't ring all night. 

He doesn't think of Mark until he gets off his shift and waves goodbye to Doyoung, then finds Jaehyun outside, propped up against the wall. He has a cigarette between his fingers, keeps looking down the road like he's waiting for someone to arrive and Donghyuck walks up to him. Jaehyun smiles when they catch each other's gaze and Donghyuck ends up smiling, too. 

Jaehyun pulls out a cigarette without a word and hands it to Donghyuck, and instead of taking out his lighter, he presses the tip of his cigarette to Donghyuck's so their breaths mingle for a second and their faces are close enough that he can see how smooth Jaehyun's skin is, even in this shitty lighting and the tiny orange glow against his lips. Donghyuck inhales and Jaehyun looks at him — they hold each other's gaze and neither of them looks away, even when they pull back. Donghyuck pries his eyes away only to breathe smoke to the side, and Jaehyun does the same. 

"Are we waiting for your friend?" he asks and Donghyuck pulls out his phone to check. Jeno texted him, then Renjun, but no one else. He shakes his head, and Jaehyun looks almost happy to hear it. 

"I still wanna go," Donghyuck says and Jaehyun nods. 

"Did you drive here?" 

"Nah, I walked." 

"Good thing I brought my bike — I didn't bring a helmet for you, though." Jaehyun takes a last drag of his cigarette then tosses it to the ground, puts it out with his shoe. Then he reaches over and takes Donghyuck's chin between his fingers, gives it a squeeze as he smiles and those dimples make Donghyuck feel soft. The rest of Jaehyun makes him feel anything but soft. "I'll go extra slow." 

Donghyuck doesn't bother to finish his cigarette, instead tosses it to the ground and puts it out and walks after Jaehyun to his motorcycle. He figures it'll do him some good to get out — his heart can't break if he spends the entire night trying to forget it exists. 

-

After Johnny is gone, and Donghyuck shows no sign of returning, Mark lays on the couch with wet hair and a towel beneath him. He has his eyes closed and he's silent, meditating like he always does before consulting the phone.

The phone is an old, red rotary phone that's never been hooked up to anything — and if it has, neither Donghyuck nor Mark know where or when or how. They found it as children in a yard sale when they would roam the streets on Saturdays with nothing to do. It had been a joke at first, buying it to talk to spirits or ghosts or even God himself depending on the day, the hour, the weather outside, their fickle mood when it came to playing. Mostly, it was a joke that had grown into a myth.

Mark stands up and shakes his head, moves around the apartment in just blue briefs Johnny had bought for him — wearing gifts, Mark thinks, brings good luck — and he finds the phone wrapped up in an old Batman towel in the closet. There's a hush around it, as if wrapped in silence, too, but Mark is loud, pulls it out like he's still that excited child that found it in the yard sale in the first place.

It had been nothing at first, he remembers. He liked the red shine of it, and he admires the paint now as he unwraps it, how it shines and catches the light, glimmering for all these years. Mark follows the unspoken ritual they had set up: he polishes it with a wet kitchen towel, dries it with another, then sits in the middle of the living room on the floor with his legs crossed. The phone sits in front of him, facing him, waiting for him and Mark closes his eyes and sighs one more time.

It had been nothing at first, until it meant everything. What they joked was a portal to another world became just that when Donghyuck's parents went missing. What was meant to be playdate of a few hours turned into a day, then three, then an entire week, and Donghyuck's usual bright, cheery voice turned solemn. On the eighth day, Mark's parents finally mustered up the courage to tell Donghyuck that his parents were gone.

As children, the concept of being gone was strange. Gone where? Donghyuck asked Mark's parents, then Mark, then himself at night and Mark sat next to him as he cried. This continued until it had become a fact of life, and Donghyuck's biggest grief was not being able to say goodbye, which is where the phone came in. There was nobody to tell them any different — if they talked to ghosts and God, why not Donghyuck's parents? And so the phone became a door to something else, and Donghyuck's family was added on the endless list of contacts the phone could reach — from dead pets to celebrities to fictional characters they made up themselves. It also became a way to seek comfort, to ask for advice, and now Mark opens his eyes, finds himself ready.

He isn't sure of who to ask advice from that night, so he decides to talk to God himself. He picks up the receiver and presses it against his ear and whispers, "Hi."

The sound on the other line, of course, is silence, but it's a full silence, like the silence of a sea shell and Mark plucks out meaning from the emptiness. He inhales, exhales. He thinks to put it down again but he has to ask the question.

"Okay — so, here's the thing: there's a contest I'm going to win, and then I'm going to get out of this town. Is that... is that the right choice? I mean, like, I know it is the right choice, but I can still wonder. Like, am I done with this chapter in my life? Can you send me some sort of sign? Something clear — send it right now!" Just as he says the last word, his phone dings, then dings again. Two notifications perfectly timed, and had he not been on the rotary phone, he would've ran to see what the universe tells him but the rotary phone is something he respects. He's almost in awe of how it works so perfectly, Mark feels listened to.

With a grin, he sets down the receiver carefully, doesn't even check his cell phone until the other phone is wrapped up in a towel and back in its sanctuary in the closet.

Mark almost gets dressed like checking his notifications is some grand event — and it might as well be. On his phone are the answers to all his questions, or at least the next step in his life, or so the phone has declared it.

He unlocks the screen, sees a text from Donghyuck asking if he wants dinner and the other is from Tinder. He's matched with someone, and a match shouldn't be such a difficult thing but everyone on Tinder is either someone he knows or knows of or someone Johnny knows, and maybe a Tinder profile is too much after he's just broken up with Johnny that same day, but he figured it would be a good way to promote his new YouTube channel and to show people his new lifestyle and—

"Wow," he says, because he flips through Lucas's pictures. He'd swiped yes on him in between Johnny's sets, mostly distracted and bored, but now he's enamored by this profile. It has his name, his age, nothing else describing him except a single pencil emoji, which doesn't make any sense but it intrigues Mark just the same. One picture is of him in a leather jacket in some bathroom, the other is of him again but with blonde hair and his head resting against his fist, the last two look older and his arm is wrapped around another boy, a very pretty boy that shows up fully in the first pic and is cut off in the second one. Mark figures it's his best friend because Lucas looks very happy in these, and Mark can appreciate the way his eyes crinkle but still look massive, and the way his lips still look plush when stretched around a smile.

He's handsome, so there's that, the universe has granted him this one certainty but the rest of it feels nebulous. What is God telling him? He almost pulls out the phone again to whine and complain that he wants a more clear sign, but he'll take it. Lucas is handsome, and if they have to fall in love, well, Mark looks at the first picture again and feels tiny flutters at the pit of his stomach. If they have to fall in love, they will.

Trusting the guidance of God and the phone and the tiny universe he calls home, Mark sends the first message: "Hi" with a small blush emoji. Then he locks his phone, lays back on the towel on the couch and closes his eyes and waits for the rest of his life to start.

*


	2. moving along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to redo the fic summary but i don't know how to summarize this. hope u guys enjoy! tw: mentions of death

Lucas doesn't even mean to swipe. He's still feeling guilty having a Tinder in the first place, and he'd swiped no for every single person that popped up but Mark had been different. The first picture had Mark in obscenely pink hair, and then he'd clicked for the next picture and found Mark with blue hair, then lavender, then blond, ending up in a green that was curiously fitting. In each picture, Mark had a different expression, too, and this is what captivated him the most — each picture felt like a scene from an actual life, as if Mark lived out each day rather than let it pass. In one he was frowning, in one he was grinning, and in another he just stared at the camera with wide eyes, sparkling as if they'd caught every single light in the room in their dark circles. 

Yet, even captivated, Lucas still went to swipe Mark away, except this time he swiped on the other side and was met with the match animation. He had sighed, and now he was outside, on his balcony, having a smoke. 

It's his only match, and he knows it isn't an accident. He'd swiped no all day and now, of all times, he suddenly forgets the direction to swipe? No, he thinks, blows out some smoke, even smiles out into the night. He's been single for an entire year but he still feels a pang of guilt at the thought of dating someone new. He wanted to swipe, he wanted Mark. 

He finishes up his cigarette and tosses it over the edge of his balcony, disappears into his apartment. Ever since he'd matched with Mark, he's been avoiding looking in the direction of his living room where his coffee table sits. On it is a single picture — the only picture on display in the entire apartment — of him with his arm around Jungwoo, the picture he'd cropped for his profile. His lips part, his mouth opens, he thinks to apologize to Jungwoo out loud — he's always wanted to talk to him out loud, but each time it's felt too childish — but he closes his mouth and heads to his kitchen. 

Talking to the dead is silly, he reminds himself because the words are there, in his throat, waiting for Lucas to release them but he knows he couldn't just apologize. There would be confessions, there would be speeches, there is so much he wanted to tell Jungwoo before he died, and even more after, and Lucas's eyes tear up but he focuses on the empty refrigerator in front of him. 

"Talking to the dead is silly," he whispers, reminds himself, and the urge to yell passes. Like clockwork, someone knocks on his door and he goes to answer it.

Sicheng is on the other side, looking like he always does: panicked, one second away from crying, his hair sticking out behind his ears and he smiles like he always does when he sees Lucas. 

"Hey, I haven't seen you in a while — I know it's annoying, but I don't want you to starve and die while you're my neighbor," Sicheng says, and that's when Lucas notices he's holding a plastic bag. Sicheng follows his eyes and his smile refreshes and he hands the bag over. "Ordered extra — you have to eat, Xuxi." 

Lucas clicks his tongue at 'Xuxi', almost smiles. Almost. Despite trying, he can't seem to loosen up his facial expressions so his mouth closes and he makes a thin line with his lips, as close as a smile as he can muster and Sicheng seems pleased with this. He doesn't say goodbye, just reaches over and pats Lucas's cheek and then walks to his door down the hallway and Lucas watches. 

Another pang of guilt strikes because he can never stop himself from watching the way Sicheng moves and walks. He's wearing shorts and they seem shorter today and his legs are toned, his bottom pert and Lucas looks away. It's been so long since he's gotten laid that his neighbor in comfortable clothes might give him a boner, but he makes a note of asking Sicheng what he does. He doesn't know a thing about him except they'd met when Lucas moved in, and sometimes when he smoked outside, Sicheng was also on his balcony stretching, usually in the mornings. The only difference between them is that Sicheng is usually just waking up, while Lucas has stayed up all night. 

Nights are easier, he thinks, and looks down at the food in his hand. He disappears back inside, heads to the table, unwraps boxes of dumplings and chicken and fried rice and his stomach growls this time and he opens his mouth to talk to Jungwoo again, then catches himself. 

Even if he doesn't talk to Jungwoo, he'd come to his hometown to look for pieces of him. He walks up the streets of this town and wonders if Jungwoo had seen this crack in the pavement, or if he'd seen that streetlight flicker. He wonders if as a child he would chase crickets or birds or if he'd ever stopped to stretch his arms out to either side of him to catch the breeze. As sad as it seemed sometimes, he finds happiness in these moments. 

In his head, Jungwoo had never died, his soul had just returned to his happiest moments and from what he told Lucas, some of his happiest moments were spent in his town. It'd been hard to leave, he'd admitted, and Lucas had looked at him with wide eyes, imagining something grand, something beautiful, a place built of dreams and cotton candy and lights so bright they could burn. 

He sighs now, starts eating his food, reaches for his phone and unlocks it. There's ten notifications, all from Tinder. Mark, his only match, has sent him ten messages in two minute intervals, first a few greetings and then apologies for sending more than one greeting and then a paragraph about Lucas's blond hair and why it looked nice and the last message read, simply, 'you look tall as fuck,' and even if he hasn't smiled in months, Lucas finds his lips quivering, attempting to curve as he reads each one, like someone learning to walk again. 

Before he knows it, he sends back one message saying 'hi,' then another one, then two more. He sighs, eats more food, looks up at the picture in the distance, still sitting on the dining table. And so it begins. 

-

Donghyuck tries to back out halfway, or he convinces himself of that. He could feel the guilt creeping on early that night, watching Jaehyun's friend sing with a small band, Jaehyun's hand creeping up his thigh under the table. He'd ordered one drink, then ordered another. 

He doesn't understand where the feeling comes from — Mark, of all people, isn't worried about who Donghyuck is fucking, so why should Donghyuck worry? — but he feels it in his chest. He's saving himself, and other than the inevitable hook-ups he allows himself to have, he still has faith that he's the one Mark wants to get old with. But this is no way to live a life, orbiting around his best friend, hoping one day he wakes up and sees all Donghyuck does for him. Thinking about it like this, loosened by the first drink, then the second, it almost feels sad, pathetic. 

By the time the third drink comes around, he refuses. He isn't tipsy or even close to it, but he wants to be sober. Tonight is the night he forgets about Mark Lee — he's already close to leaving, anyway, so he should get used to it now — and, as if the universe agrees, the band starts playing upbeat music. 

"Do you dance?" Jaehyun asks, turns to look at Donghyuck. He's done with drinks, onto water now. Under the table, he hooks his ankle around Donghyuck's.

"No," Donghyuck says, plainly. He takes Jaehyun's water and Jaehyun smiles at him, amused. 

"Do you like the band? They were looking for another singer — should I mention you?"

Donghyuck's mouth wraps around a 'no' but he's interested. Orbiting around Mark had meant that Donghyuck's dreams had been pushed aside, and even if he's the one who shoved them under the bed or stuffed them in the drawers in his head, he still blames Mark. He almost resents him — how dare he make Donghyuck fall so completely for him and then just plans to whisk off to somewhere else? Why hadn't he invited him to go with him yet? Why do all his plans center around Mark and Mark alone?

Before his mind can keep racing, he takes another sip of water. It's not Mark's fault, he reminds himself. Mark has never stopped him from having a life, it's been Donghyuck that's so worried about making Mark's easier. It's been his choices — Mark doesn't owe him anything. With that revelation he turns to Jaehyun, makes a choice for him and himself alone. 

"Yeah, tell them I'm looking for a band. Give them my number — do you have it?"

"No, you can give it to me later," Jaehyun says, smiling. Those dimples make Donghyuck flush because his eyes are so dark, the smile is cute — part of Jaehyun makes him horny and the rest makes Donghyuck want to do things for him, make sure he's fed. He almost groans at the way he thinks, but instead he looks down, takes another sip.

"Later? You think this night will continue?"

Jaehyun's hand climbs up his thigh and his finger traces the front of his pants, along the zipper and Donghyuck's dick twitches. He wonders if Jaehyun notices, but by the way his smile grows into a grin, he's pretty sure he does. Donghyuck rests his elbows on the table and rests his face in his palms, covers the bottom half of his face with his fingers. 

"You're mean," he says, almost smiles at his attempt at flirting. 

"I can get meaner," Jaehyun answers, cups the front of Donghyuck's pants and squeezes and Donghyuck's eyes flutter shut. By instinct, his mouth opens, his throat loosens; out comes a tiny little sound, high-pitched and nasally and embarrassingly needy. It's been so long, he thinks, that's what's happening here. It's been so long, and his body is sensitive and that seems like a good enough explanation for him.

"Let's go," Donghyuck says after a moment, his voice still small, and Jaehyun follows the command without any fuss. Donghyuck walks and leans from side to side, trying to hide his erection, though the friction only makes it worse. Soon, though, they're out in the open and Donghyuck doesn't worry about what time it is or if the sun might rise before he gets home or even where they're going. Jaehyun seems like a good guy, and if he doesn't, he's hot enough that Donghyuck doesn't care. 

Jaehyun climbs onto his bike and Donghyuck climbs on behind him, holds on tight like he had the first time and then they're off, slow enough to not run any danger and fast enough that Donghyuck's hair flutters in the wind. He tightens his arms around Jaehyun's waist and that's when he notices their difference in size and this makes him feel safer than before, and his head tilts to the side so he can feel air whipping against his cheeks and the cool breeze of an incoming winter skates past him and he feels alive, so, so alive, not worried about anything but this moment on this empty street with the streetlights passing by, blurred by speed and he opens his mouth to yell but all that comes out is one long string of laughter. 

"You okay back there?" Jaehyun shouts and Donghyuck's focus crashes back on Jaehyun, this man guiding this bike, this man with shoulders and thighs and a toned stomach and Donghyuck unclasps his hands so he can run his hand over it. Then he slips it under Jaehyun's shirt and traces each muscle with his fingers and Jaehyun's abs harden under the touch. Donghyuck breathes, not laughing anymore but he makes another sound, almost like a moan. His hand falls from Jaehyun's stomach to his thigh and he squeezes the flesh but his fingers keep climbing up until he's palming the front of his jeans, trying to find his dick under there. 

"To the right," Jaehyun says and his voice sounds unsure or nervous but Donghyuck doesn't mind because he finds the outline of it pressed against his jeans and he's bigger than Donghyuck imagined it. He keeps running his palm over it and it gets bigger each time and it throbs and it twitches and Donghyuck is practically groaning along with Jaehyun. The bike never stops, they stay in motion and this should be dangerous but Donghyuck trails his finger around the head, makes out its shape with the rest of his hand and he grabs it and he wants it, wants all that Jaehyun has to offer. 

He wraps his arms around Jaehyun's waist again and leans his cheek against his shoulder, leans forward to whisper in his ear.

"Fuck me tonight." 

"I plan to," Jaehyun answers, not missing a beat.

Donghyuck's stomach fills with flutter and he can already picture it, but the time between Jaehyun's words and when he actually gets fucked seems long, infinite even but Donghyuck doesn't mind. For some reason the seconds feel lighter, and he's drunk off a new sensation. He won't be coming home, he doesn't even think of home or who might or might not be in it — without thinking of Mark, his mind opens up to endless possibilities. 

Soon they're stumbling into Jaehyun's apartment and Donghyuck trips near his living room until Jaehyun turns on the lights and he sees giant canvasses stacked against the wall. There's a cup of paintbrushes, some scattered paints, and on the front canvas there's a neat portrait of Jaehyun, naked, sitting on a lavish chair and covered with fur and Donghyuck snorts. 

"You paint?" he asks, but really he means to ask if Jaehyun painted that. It's a good painting — detailed in all the right places, like his abs and his thighs and in the fur that covers his crotch — but the thought of a self-portrait this extra makes him want to walk back out of the apartment. But then he turns and Jaehyun's already pulled off his jacket and his shirt and his jeans, stands in front of Donghyuck in only a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs and his dick is there, already hard, pressed against the front of his underwear and to the side, on his thigh. The head peeks out and when Jaehyun catches Donghyuck looking, it twitches and Donghyuck's knees go weak. 

"No, Sicheng does — he's painting me," Jaehyun says and steps closer, and with him comes that boner and that underwear and then his fingers hook around the band and he pulls it down and his dick swings in front of him, points upright, almost curves upwards and Donghyuck can feel himself about to faint. It's been so long — so fucking long. 

It turns out, he doesn't have to stand for long because soon he's naked, too, and upside down. Jaehyun is sitting on the couch, holding Donghyuck up by his hips and Donghyuck's hands are at his thigh, keeping himself upright. He's facing forward at the painting but it's hard to keep his eyes open when Jaehyun's tongue is circling his hole, then slithering inside and Donghyuck isn't even touching the ground — he feels airborne — so every sensation feels that much more intimate. He's lost all control, but then Jaehyun's arms and hands tighten around him and he realizes he likes it; he doesn't have to think, just has to feel the way Jaehyun's tongue slides in and out of him, fucks his hole until it's wet and warm and soaked in saliva and Jaehyun keeps latching his lips around it and giving the most gentle sucks and nibbles and Donghyuck's legs squirm in the air, his toes curl. 

Words gather at his throat but the blood rushes to his head and he feels dizzy and warm, but so, so good. Jaehyun kisses his ass cheek next, takes a bite of the other one and sinks his teeth until Donghyuck's toes are curling and he lets out bright little whines. Then his tongue is back, just the tip at first sliding up and down the cleft of his ass, then circling around his hole. He kisses above it, then under it, then to each side, and just when Donghyuck is about to squirm, Jaehyun shoves his tongue back inside and Donghyuck goes back to feeling like all his nerves are heating up. 

His mouth opens, lets out sighs and quiet cries and he thinks he could get used to this. 

Jaehyun eats him out for what seems like a small eternity and then he's patting Donghyuck, keeping him present, awake. He pulls him up and Donghyuck uses his hands to get horizontal, lays on Jaehyun's lap to catch his breath but Jaehyun has something else in mind. His hand roams the back of Donghyuck's thighs, curves over his ass, strokes his lower back, then he pulls it off him to spank Donghyuck.

The first smack leaves him breathless and he squirms, but the second and third leave a sting that empties Donghyuck's mind and keeps it empty, white-hot. After the fifth smack, the sting blends into something else — they aren't hard smacks that hurt but they do make him aware of the rest of his body. His ass is warm and cold at the same time and he feels numb, numb everywhere and he likes the sensation so much that he arches his back and lifts his ass up and Jaehyun chuckles.

"Shut u—" his voice cuts off with a cry when Jaehyun spanks him again. Then his hand lingers, rubs gentle circles on his ass and Donghyuck has a second to catch his breath and he ruts his hips and his cock is hard, rubs against something harder and it takes a second to recognize Jaehyun's cock pressing up against him. In a minute, he's crawling off the couch and getting on his knees and he kneels in front of Jaehyun and drinks in the sight of him. 

Jaehyun sits back, still smirking and his dimples show, even in this dim lighting, and he spreads his thighs apart and leans back into the couch and rests both of his arms against the top of it and Donghyuck is breathless. 

"Fuck," he says, his mind still empty but now it fills up with Jaehyun because Jaehyun's cock is right there, standing up. The tip is shiny where cum has gathered again and smeared down the side of it and Donghyuck leans forward and licks it clean. He runs his tongue up the edges and sees Jaehyun's stomach harden, hears him groan, and he keeps licking around it, licking all over his cock so it glistens and then he takes the top part in. From there, it's like he never stops — he sucks, he licks, he bobs his head until he's drooling and saliva is dripping from the corners of his mouth, falling down his chin and when he looks up, Jaehyun's eyes look darker and hungrier and he understands that this night is only starting. 

-

Talking to Mark takes up most of his night, but talking to Mark is less talking and more listening. Lucas hasn't been up to much in months but Mark makes even the smallest events seem dazzling. He tells Lucas about his growing rock collection — three stones, one small boulder he can't lift and keeps in the yard of his friend's house, where he found it — and about his roommate and the contest and getting out of this town to see snow fall from the sky and the escape part of his conversation is when Lucas can engage with him. Lucas, after all, is from the outside, already feels like an outsider and it's almost silly to refer to other cities as the "outside" but in such a cozy town, he might as well be from another world.

People are born and live and die here, he's noticed, and though every young person talks about leaving, all that happens is new a new residential area is built and new stores are placed around it and the town grows just to shrink back into itself. It's comfortable, cozy, but Lucas knows it's no place to spend the rest of his life in. After all, he came to learn about Jungwoo then leave, to pick up the fragments of his youth so he could complete the story in his head — so he could use those shards of a life to fill in the gaps in his chest. His heart broke when Jungwoo passed away, and now there were pieces missing, like cracked porcelain, and Lucas is set on filling them with gold — the gold of Jungwoo's old life. 

He knows of places, of old friends, but chasing Jungwoo around this town feels like chasing a ghost and Mark reminds him of where he belongs. Away from here, lost in the bustle of downtown, his earplugs in as crowds pulse around him. This is only temporary, he thinks, and Mark might leave with him. 

Their conversation spills past Tinder and soon they're texting and Lucas has to silence his phone because Mark sends texts in groups of five or seven — each thought ricocheting into another one — but then the pictures start.

It starts innocently, Lucas commenting on Mark's hair, how easily he could fit in with the local celebrities of his city and Mark feels flattered and tells him he'd bought underwear to match. The pictures are innocent at first, just Mark holding his phone with both hands in front of a mirror in white underwear when he's platinum blonde, then blue when his hair is blue, then pink, then purple. It isn't until he gets to green that the pictures change and Mark is no longer standing in front of a mirror but sitting on the sink and the curve of his spine is much more prominent — a thin waist swells into a pert ass and Lucas licks his lips, swallows, scrolls past the pictures into the new ones because Mark shares more pictures than Lucas has in his gallery. 

There's a blonde one in particular that features no underwear at all, at least no visible underwear, and the picture seems to be taken by someone else and Mark's expression is a mystery: there's a smile, but it's weak, his cheeks look flushed, his eyebrows are pushed together and his neck is bent back and that's what breaks Lucas. The thought of seeing him like this, the thought of making Mark look like that and Lucas is in his room the next second, reaching under his mattress for the bottle of lube he hides under there, along with condoms that haven't seen the light of day in what feels like years. 

He pulls it out and tosses his phone next to him, the picture of Mark with hair that looks like noodles pulled up — though the hair isn't the focal point, it's his ass in tight briefs because he takes this picture backwards, posed, teasing Lucas enough to rile him up and Lucas feels his cock twitch and harden and he sighs. 

Their conversation reaches a lull and Lucas texts back with his right hand, palms his cock through his boxers with the other hand and he knows he'll jack off as soon as he's done talking to Mark, and almost on purpose, Mark says he has to sleep. 

Mark: i have to practice my routine tomorrow, i still have to make it up

Lucas: you should show me some time

Mark: for sure, i wanna see you. let's see each other so i can show you a few tricks ;)

Lucas: haha yeah

He doesn't know what else to say so he's thankful for the silence that follows, the way his phone doesn't vibrate as he scrolls through every picture Mark sent and he should really make a hidden folder for this but there's nobody looking through his phone so he pulls up one of the cute and racy pictures, of Mark sitting on the sink with his ass perched neatly over the edge so Lucas can see the curves and the hint of his something more near the top and then he pulls down his boxers. In a few strokes, he's hard again, and his dick feels warm against his palm and he waits until it's fully hard. He pushes his cock down then lets go and hears it smack against his stomach, a meaty little thud that has him breathing deeper and he reaches for the lube and lathers himself up and he doesn't want to turn up the brightness on his phone, feels dirty doing so. Instead he reaches for the light, and that's when he remembers the picture. 

He'd brought it in from the living room to feel less lonely at night but something about Jungwoo and him in the frame, something about Jungwoo staring at him with that smile makes him nervous. He still doesn't talk to the dead but he knows Jungwoo would be judging him, watching him, waiting for his reaction and Lucas turns off the light and puts the picture face down so he doesn't see him. 

His fingers slide up and down his cock and he starts to get into it, first looking at the picture Mark sent and then closing his eyes. He sees the same image but now it moves and Mark is grinning, looking at him, and Lucas is reaching out to touch him and spank him until his ass jiggles and Lucas's hands look so big sliding up Mark's sides and Mark is so light that Lucas can just pick him up and toss him against the bed. Lucas is getting naked, Mark is on his stomach, his ass up and Lucas feels hungry and he looks to the side and there it is, the picture. 

Lucas's eyes fly open and his neck twists and he looks to make sure that the picture is still face down. He narrows his eyes at it, almost feels annoyed that Jungwoo won't let him jack off in peace, even from death, and his lips part again to speak out loud. It's almost like he's in the room with him but he can't bring himself to accept this truth, because accepting that he's around means accepting that he's gone, that he hasn't just gone away on a long trip so Lucas closes his mouth, presses his lips into a tight line. 

They would've laughed, he thinks, if Jungwoo had walked in on him jacking off and Lucas's eyes water and he shakes his head and he still refuses to talk to Jungwoo. Instead he reaches over and stands the picture frame back up so Jungwoo and him can watch him jerk off. He closes his eyes, huffs, almost shouts a playful curse at Jungwoo but instead he smiles and resumes his fantasy — Mark has taken off his briefs and is pulling his ass cheeks open and Lucas is going to be very busy with dinner.

-

He doesn't mean to spend the night. Donghyuck wakes with a gasp, rubs his eyes, sits up like something's on fire but it's just the morning light broken by the blinds into slits that have crept on the bed. It takes a moment to place himself and the pain in his rear, that feeling of having been rearranged from the inside, a soreness that follows him no matter which way he moves and he should be ecstatic that he got fucked, yet he's anything but. 

Beside him, Jaehyun is asleep on his stomach and the sheets do nothing to cover him — they bundle up around his calves, avoid every other part of him — and the slats of light curve over his back, his ass, his thighs. They highlight all the muscles in repose, and when Donghyuck keeps shuffling in the bed and Jaehyun hums and moves, they highlight all those muscles, too. Jaehyun isn't too thick but he's ripped, his body is lean, contains ripples of muscles and it takes effort not to flip him over and blow him awake and to have a repeat of last night. 

For some reason, though, Donghyuck feels guilty. All night spent without Mark in his head seems to catch up with him, and even if he isn't hungover or particularly tired, and the only discomfort is how sore his ass is — though he thinks of this as a prize — he still feels a deep sense of panic. Like Mark knows for some reason that he's slept with Jaehyun, that he might be mad or sad or worried, that it might ruin the chances of them getting together that have never been there and Donghyuck feels pathetic. 

His face hardens, he pouts, he looks forward at the other half-done portrait on the wall, this one of someone Donghyuck has never seen before, and he tries his best not to think about Mark and how much he wants to be his. The efforts are futile, he stands up and tugs on his clothes, forgets his underwear, walks out of the room with his jeans and a shirt and his hair a mess. He doesn't need to say goodbye to Jaehyun, he thinks, because he'll see him again — he always sees him — so he stumbles to the front door and pulls on his shoes and stumbles out, down the hallway. He has to keep a hand on the wall to keep himself from falling because he's dizzy from moving so quickly and he's hungry and his legs still feel weak and his core feels used, thoroughly stretched still, and in the elevator he clenches his ass and feels the ghost of getting fucked last night and it feels good. He closes his eyes, leans back against the elevator wall, allows himself a single smile before the guilt from before washes over. 

Half an hour later, he finds Mark in the middle of the living room. Donghyuck had expected Mark to look panicked or scared or sad, perhaps mad, and maybe Donghyuck had hoped for one of those reactions — something that told him that Mark had been thinking of him while he was gone — but Mark looks peaceful there, his lower half clad in tight underwear, his legs sprawled on the couch and his top half bared and on the ground. He almost looks like he's smiling and Donghyuck is mad, suddenly. Mark should have at least been awake to greet him but Donghyuck says nothing for now, just shakes his head, goes into his room to change and then he disappears into the bathroom. 

He takes a long, hot shower, and though part of him wants to scrub Jaehyun off his body because he's not horny, and he's maybe a little regretful, and what he did feels dirty now — and all those positions, well, they seem ridiculous in hindsight — but when he drags his hands across his body, he can't help but remember what it was like to be touched, to have his mind empty and hollow as a tongue and fingers and a cock slid in and out of him like he were made to take them. He drags his hands over his stomach, then his hips, then squeezes his own ass and soon he has a finger inside of him. His jaw goes slack and his body warms and he fingers himself, explores his insides, tries to feel what someone else might feel and it's exciting enough that he gets hard and he murmurs a name, any name, and though he tries to think of Jaehyun, the image of Mark creeps into his thoughts. 

Then there's knocking on the door and his fantasy pops like a bubble and Donghyuck is mad again, pissed off. If he can't have Mark in real life then he might as well have him in fantasies, but Mark is knocking on the door again, asking him to hurry up, that they have plans they can't miss and Donghyuck does his best to speed up the process. He thinks of jerking off still but he goes against it, prioritizes Mark so that he's walking out of the bathroom in shorts and a loose shirt and wet hair and he sees Mark twirling in the living room. 

He's pushed all the furniture to the edges of the room so there's open space suddenly. Music plays from some speakers in the corner, something between Latin and classical and Mark spots him with one eye, reaches out a hand. 

"What's all this?" Donghyuck asks, reaches out a hand and Mark pulls him in the middle. Soon they have their arms around each other in what Donghyuck assumes is a slow-dance. They twirl for a bit, slowly, and Donghyuck imagines them in a musical spinning around the frame in black and white and every single fiber of anger he'd held before seems to fall on the ground between their feet, crushed like petals, vibrant petals that don't hold a candle to the boy in his arms. Halfway through the song, he's smiling, threatening to get lost in the emotion of this moment but his mind holds up clarity like a shard of glass. Donghyuck bites his lip, brings them to a stop.

Their arms are still around each other but Mark leans back, grins at him, his eyes wide. His hand comes down to squeeze Donghyuck's ass and that makes Donghyuck flinch and swat Mark's hand. 

"What is this?" he asks and Mark smiles wider. He finally lets go of Donghyuck and goes to the couch, crashes on his back, sprawls out like he's exhausted. 

"It's my talent." 

"What? What do you mean?"

"Yeah, for the contest — I'm gonna do a little of everything, so singing and dancing and acting and maybe some comedy and you have to help me." 

Donghyuck moves, feels his bruised core again and feels guilty. He feels ashamed, so he shakes his head and scoffs and heads to the kitchen. His stomach is growling. 

"I don't think I can help you."

He can't see him, but he can sense Mark sitting upright, shocked suddenly. His voice comes out like a whine. 

"But why? You have to teach me to sing like you — I'm playing guitar, too. Come on, Donghyuck, you're the only person I got — you're the best dancer I know, other than me, and the best singer I know, other than me, and even the coolest person I know, other than me."

Donghyuck rolls his eyes but he finds himself smiling, anyway. He takes out a bowl and serves himself some cereal and pours out some milk, and in that time, Mark appears in the kitchen, sliding on his socks over the floor, doing the finger guns he always does. 

"Come on, Lee Donghyuck. You're the only person I have." 

"What's in it for me?" 

They both sit on the counter, across from each other. Donghyuck starts eating his cereal while Mark plants his elbows on the counter, pouts, presses his cheek against his small fists. 

"You get to see me be happy and fulfill my dream of being famous and escaping to a snowy little city."

"Why do you want to see snow?" 

"I don't know — it seems fun, I want to build a snowman." 

"You're already a snowflake to me." 

"That doesn't count — wait, are you teasing me? You're allowed to tease me only if you help me." 

"I'm going to tease you regardless," Donghyuck says, takes another bite, tries to think of something he can ask but every time he thinks of asking Mark for something, his mind leaps and he thinks of impossible things: dates, kisses, hugs, a chance at wooing him properly. Instead his gaze falls to his spoon, though his appetite is quickly disappearing. 

"How about if you help me, I'll let you visit me any time you want. Like, when I move to the city and start my new life as a celebrity," Mark says, closes his eyes, looks satisfied and lost in a daydream while Donghyuck feels himself choke. He coughs into his fist, tries to play it off as something else because the reminder of Mark leaving makes him nervous. He wants so badly for Mark to take him along, whether as a boyfriend or just a friend or a personal assistant — it doesn't matter. He can't be away from him, he doesn't think he could survive, but how does he tell Mark that without telling him other things? Without admitting to the feelings that well up in his chest and push words up to his throat that sound too close to a confession for comfort. 

He pushes the bowl away from him, watches the cereal get soggy, then swallows his words. 

"You don't have to promise me anything, I'll help you regardless," Donghyuck says, finally, and looks up at Mark but his jaw has gone slack and his mouth is open, drool dripping from his lips — he's fallen asleep again and Donghyuck shakes his head, smiles, tries to blink away the tears that push against his eyes. Then he does what he always does: he keeps going. 

\- 

A few hours later, once Donghyuck has disappeared to his job, Johnny lays in Mark's bed and runs his hands up and down his back. They have no excuse this time, other than Johnny wanting to see him, horny and bored and Mark has no excuse to push him out. They had made out until neither of them had clothes on but now Mark is on his stomach while Johnny plays with his ass. 

He's always liked the difference in size, how both his hands envelop each ass cheek and he pushes them together and pulls them apart so Mark's cute hole looks back at him. Mark is thin, but his ass has always been bouncy, pert, and Johnny gives it a few small smacks to watch it jiggle, then he squeezes tight until the flesh of his ass comes up between his fingers and he sighs. His fingers slide up his back, trail over his spine, then disappear into the back of Mark's hair and Mark hums. 

Mark, in turn, has an arm under his head and the other is awkwardly bent so he can stroke Johnny's cock lazily. It stays half-hard as Mark plays with it, neither boy concerned with getting hard or getting started — sex was like this sometimes between them, more of a means of communication. A silent conversation of touching and twitching cocks and Mark's cute little ass against his palm, soft and warm and kissable. Johnny bends over and bites one of the cheeks gently, then leaves a kiss on the tiny bite marks he leaves behind. Mark whimpers, then goes silent, and Johnny's teeth hover around the other cheek until Mark's fingers stop and he lifts his head. Johnny sits up.

"Do you love me?" Mark asks and Johnny smiles. Mark has always been aloof, a bit silly, but he's always been sentimental, too, and this wasn't the first time he'd asked.

"Yeah, I do," Johnny answers and leaves a trail of wet kisses up Mark's back until he's kissing the side of his neck, then kissing his shoulder. Soon he lays his entire weight on top of Mark and Mark rests his head on his arms, lets out a tiny breath. "Do _you_ love me?"

It takes a second, but Mark nods, then opens his eyes, tries to turn around to look at Johnny but Johnny moves his hips so his cock slips under his ass, between his thighs. It twitches, starts to harden from rubbing on such soft, smooth skin and Mark hums.

"So we love each other — but are we in love?"

This is a more complicated question, but Johnny still smiles. He isn't that much older than him but Mark has always been young, innocent, hopeful. The world hasn't made him weary and this has always been his charm, his passion, those wide eyes and bright smile with which he sees the world. 

"We could be," Johnny answers and Mark wriggles beneath him, which makes his dick twitch again. It hardens and swells up in size and it gets longer, pressing insistently against Mark's thighs and he spreads them just to trap the head between them. Soon Johnny is rocking his hips gently, his cock sliding between Mark's thighs as he exhales. 

"Why aren't we in love right now? We were dating."

"We were," Johnny says, bites his lip when Mark rocks against him. He almost feels bad saying this but they've talked about it before. Mark and him, they found each other attractive, they had fun with each other, they went on dates and had sex and made love and even felt romantically attached but they both knew they couldn't complete each other. They were closer to best friends than lovers and that has always been the agreement. Johnny knows he's dead weight, knows that he'll probably die in this town, married to someone he doesn't quite love, fulfilling a dream that isn't his own and to fall in love with Mark feels like holding him back. Mark has nothing weighing him down, if someone is meant to achieve their dreams, it's Mark. 

Of course he says none of this because Mark is wiggling against him, rubbing that cute little ass over Johnny's hips until he can't take it anymore, swallows. 

He sits up, gets off Mark and Mark rolls over and whines. 

"I can't believe we aren't in love." 

"And if we were? Would you take me with you? Out of this city?" 

Mark lays on his side and rests his head on his hand, elbow digging into the bed. He looks at Johnny, almost overwhelms him with how pretty he is. His eyes, of course, are cute, as are his lips, his sharp, handsome features and his body is slim, soft in all the right places, hard where it needs to be and even his cock — red and swollen and leaking — feels cute. He definitely could be in love with him if he tried, Johnny thinks, but instead he meets Mark's gaze and smirks, stares him down until Mark rolls his eyes and lays on his back.

"You can always come with, you know. You'll be my plus one everywhere." 

"I thought you'd save that spot for Donghyuck." 

"I don't think he wants to come."

"Did you ask?"

"N-no — but he hasn't said anything. Should I ask?" 

"You should do whatever you want to do," 

Mark looks confused now, maybe lost in thought, and Johnny takes this as an opportunity to arrange him the way he wants. He lays Mark on his back, pins his hands above his head and kisses his cheek, then his nose, then his forehead, and he pauses there, his lips pressed against his head. As much as he acts like he doesn't care about anything, sometimes Mark himself, Johnny knows he cares too much. His stomach flutters at the thought of Mark leaving, not because he'll be alone but because he won't be there to protect him or pick him up when he's down. But he pulls back and Mark's cheeks are flushed and his lips are parted and Johnny pushes all his thoughts aside so he can enjoy this moment.

He swings his legs over him and straddles Mark's chest, keeps him pinned down and he slowly inches forward until his cock is against Mark's mouth. His lips part to take it in but Johnny drags the tip over his cheek, taps it against his nose, meaty little thuds, and then he pokes Mark's chin with it. Mark just keeps his mouth open and his eyes fixed on Johnny's gaze, he tries to catch in his mouth but Johnny shakes his head. 

"Not yet," he says and Mark goes still under him. His eyes look needy, almost teary, and Johnny swipes the head of his cock over Mark's lips and though the lips themselves don't move, Mark flicks out his tongue like a kitten, gets the underside wet enough that Johnny exhales. He nods, and Mark wraps his lips around the head and sucks and closes his eyes and nearly whimpers into his dick and Johnny could cum from that alone. 

But he grabs a fistful of Mark's hair instead, hears Mark whimper, feels him squirm under him, but he guides Mark's head off the bed so that his cock disappears beyond his lips. He pushes his hips forward and tugs Mark's head until his entire cock is enveloped in that pretty little mouth, and he keeps pushing until Mark chokes and he holds his head there until the sound stops and he feels Mark swallowing around him. Then that tongue presses against his dick and it twitches, and for a second time he thinks he could cum right then but he doesn't. Instead he pulls out and Mark sucks the tip so that it comes out with a pop. Strands of saliva stick from the tip of his cock and Mark's lips and it's then, with Mark looking up at him with wide, teary eyes, his lips wet with spit, saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth, that Johnny decides he wants to make love to him.

He pushes his hips forward again and Mark closes his eyes, wraps his lips around his dick and their afternoon begins. 

-

Mark waits for Donghyuck to come home. After an hour of practice, and after Johnny is gone and all remains of his visit are either swept up or in the washing machine, Mark practices a solo dance — a smooth kind of dance, somewhere between contemporary and hip-hop and he just needs to find the perfect song and that portion of his talent will be done. He still wants to practice dancing with a partner, even if he won't have a partner on stage, but for that he needs Donghyuck.

Johnny's words haunt him even after he's gone, and Mark lays on the floor and looks up at the ceiling. He folds his arms over his chest and tries to think of the infinite ways he could ask Donghyuck to come with him, and he thinks of why he can't bring himself to do that. Maybe he's scared Donghyuck will say no, which doesn't make sense in any scenario, but he still feels the fear in his stomach, in his bones. 

There's nothing keeping him to this town, he thinks, except Mark himself, but just as his confidence starts to condense into action, Donghyuck's phone rings. 

"He forgot it," he whispers to himself and Mark finds his glasses on the floor next to him, he pulls them on. He's still walking funny from his passionate encounter with his now ex, but he pulls his hoodie up, pushes up his glasses with his thumb and tries to look like a hacker as he picks up Donghyuck's phone. 

It isn't snooping, he tells himself, but it's more like an audition process. Yes, he wants Donghyuck to come along, but he's also doing a background check, which he uses to justify his curiosity. On any other day, he wouldn't have cared what Donghyuck was up to but his phone keeps dinging with new texts and he's never heard it go off so many times. He touches the screen and there it is, six texts, and he puts his finger on it and the messages unfold. They're all blocked — a single image file got sent in the beginning — and Mark tries to unlock it but it asks for a password.

He tries Donghyuck's birthday but it doesn't work, and then he tries his own birthday and the phone unlocks and opens up to Jaehyun's texts. 

There's a sinking feeling as he scrolls up to the first message and he sees the picture of Donghyuck's underwear on an unfamiliar floor, and he checks the name twice — Jaehyun sounds familiar — and the rest of the texts puncture his heart a few times. 

_You forgot these. When can I see you again? Are you working tonight? There's another show if you want to come. The band wants to meet you, they're interested._

Almost on schedule, Donghyuck walks in through the door and Mark drops his phone and panics. 

"Hey, Mark," Donghyuck calls, then yawns as he steps into the living room and he looks exhausted and they stare at each other for a second. Donghyuck looks at the phone and Mark looks at Donghyuck looking at the phone and then Donghyuck looks up to look at Mark looking at him looking at the phone and both their eyes go wide.

"Sorry," Mark says and Donghyuck can't say a word before Mark is running to the front door, his eyes burning for a reason he can't pinpoint. 

"Where are you going?!"

"I have a job interview!" Mark calls and pulls on his shoes and leaves through the door, hears Donghyuck call him a weirdo from inside the apartment. 

Donghyuck doesn't look mad, he wouldn't be mad, but Mark feels strange and his heart is racing for some reason, but he feels around the pocket of his hoodie and finds his phone. 

He feels lost suddenly, and he tries to think of escaping again but the comfort of leaving this town is overshadowed by Donghyuck's absence and he realizes he should have asked before. He should have predicted this, shouldn't have assumed that Donghyuck's life revolved around him but he had and now Donghyuck's planting his roots here. The thought of going on alone makes him nervous and his palms get sweaty but then he gets a text. 

It's from Lucas, just a greeting and Mark dials his number before he can regret it. 

He picks up on the second ring, and immediately, Mark says, "Let's meet. Now. At the park downtown — I'll race you there. Bring money for food, I forgot my wallet." 

Then he hangs up before Lucas can answer. He makes it out of his building and looks back up at it, tries to imagine what Donghyuck might be thinking, what he might be doing. The logical part of him knows Donghyuck must be sleeping but this jealous, evil side of him thinks he must be texting Jaehyun and that's the side that makes him run towards the park. Maybe getting out of here will start sooner than he'd thought. 


	3. mix ups.

"So why do you want to leave so badly?"

The question hangs for a second, and Mark turns to the side, looks at Lucas. The park is dark enough for Mark to squint, but after half an hour, his eyes have adjusted and he can make out the profile of Lucas's nose, the push of his lips. Everything is a deep blue, one shade away from complete darkness but Mark likes it like that. It makes everything feel private, so when he goes back to looking up at the empty sky — no stars tonight, or ever, drowned out by the buzzing little streetlights — he can pretend he's confessing something.

It almost feels like they're under a blanket, hidden away from the rest of the world, from concerns and troubles and Mark sighs.

"It's just... suffocating," he says, finally, and he sighs again. There's no clear way to explain what he feels: everything in this town is so familiar, there is only so many paths to take, so many situations to be in. He'd gotten a job at the library and teaching guitar on the weekend and though he'd been financially secure, and even if he'd found some peace with Donghyuck at home, even if life had even been good, it had been the same day over and over and over and over and he could see the rest of his life unfolding that way.

"Boring, I want adventure — see snow and shit," he says, adds the curse at the end to sound cool. He even steals a glance at Lucas to see how he'd react to that because Lucas is cool, not just in messages but in person. He'd arrived in a leather jacket and jeans, he'd laid down without so much a smile while Mark had beamed, his grin splitting his face in half. His eyes are still bright as he fidgets on the grass because slowly, but surely, he's been inching closer and closer to Lucas. He might reach over and grab his hand, maybe, but for now he looks at the sky.

"I feel that," Lucas answers, then Mark hears a small click and sees something light up to his side and when he turns, Lucas is lighting up a cigarette. Lucas looks his way, offers it but Mark shakes his head.

"I don't smoke — I've never smoked," he says, almost adds that he's seen Johnny smoke but maybe bringing up exes isn't the best idea on a date — was this a date? — so instead he coughs, pretends to pat his cheek, then inches a little bit closer to Lucas. Soon their legs will touch, he thinks, and then they'll have another problem at hand.

"That's good," Lucas says, turns his head to the side to smoke and then he asks, "Why snow?"

"Because it never snows here. If I could see snow, it means I've gotten out of here alive, and I'm somewhere else. I want to wear a scarf and build a snowman and see a snowflake — everything. Here — well I can't do any of that here. I need to get out." His voice trails off, as it always does. He's lost in a daydream where he's in a new city and in a new life and sees new faces and he can finally breathe and maybe be himself. That's always been his issue — he doesn't know who he is, has to find himself still.

And as his mind hovers around the possibilities, he thinks of Donghyuck, too, and realizes he doesn't even know what Donghyuck wants. He saw Jaehyun's texts, knows Donghyuck might join a band, but beyond that he's a mystery. It's a strange thing for your best friend to be a mystery, despite knowing each other better than anybody else, despite spending most of their days together since their childhood, Donghyuck is still a mystery. There's terrain to explore there and he can't shake the feeling that leaving this town is like abandoning him. His stomach flips, he might be sick. It's so hard to think of himself and only himself, to put himself first and keep their relationship.

But he knows if he stays, he'll be settling, and though it's unlikely, he'll resent Donghyuck for that. Mark's face crumples with worry, and when he looks over at Lucas, their eyes meet.

"You okay?"

Mark nods, looks away, then looks back, and if he squints, really squints and focuses, he sees the corners of Lucas's lips point up. Just a little, not even perceptible to the human eye but Mark's imagination fills in the blanks and he decides, then, that Lucas might be the most handsome person he's seen. He sucks in a breath, shrugs, "Yeah — it's just a lot to think about. Why are you here? What do you do? How can you afford to just, like, exist?"

He looks over and sees Lucas tense, or maybe he's imagining that, too, but Lucas looks away. He turns his head and takes another drag of the cigarette before he puts it out on the grass next to him and instead of leaving it there and littering, Lucas slips it into a jacket pocket and Mark adds eco-friendly to the growing list of Lucas's charms. Mark is grinning, inches closer, their hands brush and he sucks in a breath. Lucas looks down at their hands, then looks at him, and the world becomes simple. He'll escape with Lucas — it'll be like eloping but better — and all doubt leaves him, just for a second.

"Why don't you come over and I can show you, we can grab some real food, have a real conversation."

Mark isn't used to being talked to this way, in Lucas's husky tone and with that look in his eyes and he feels so much like a stranger that Mark reads it as a new life, personified. Everything about him is foreign enough that Mark swoons without Lucas having to do much, and he just nods, smiles, nods again and Lucas finally, finally smiles at him. Even without any stars in the sky, and the shy sliver of moon, Mark feels the night light up — all the light comes from Lucas's smile, broad, wide, a bit goofy and clumsy, even shy, everything a smile should be.

Mark's lips part but it takes him a moment to speak. He sits up suddenly, reaches for Lucas's hand, holds it. Then, with the excitement of someone moving towards a new chapter in their life, he says, "Let's get some fucking fried chicken."

—

After Mark leaves, Donghyuck stands there in the living room, too tired to do anything. He picks up his phone — has barely noticed it was gone in the first place — and he reads Jaehyun's texts, but he's exhausted, tired. Picking up his underwear and joining a band can wait. Instead of answering, he yawns, locks his phone, takes it into his bedroom and he tosses it on the bed. There isn't much furniture in his room, just a dresser and a wardrobe and a nightstand, all littered with little figures he's managed to collect over the years and there used to be stuffed animals on his bed, but Mark had slowly stolen them one by one without fail.

There's two that Mark left behind, but they aren't plushies, more like keychains that Donghyuck keeps on the corner of the top of his dresser, next to his deodorant and cologne and lotion and everything else he hasn't found a spot for. He looks at them as he undresses, a little bear keychain latched to a little lion keychain, both from the same machine that had eaten three of their coins before it had spat out these two. Mark had called it lucky, Donghyuck had called it a waste of money, but they remained after all these years, sitting there, grinning at Donghyuck with a cartoonish joy.

He has no energy to remember or think too much on it, simply undresses until he's standing in his underwear and he pulls on shorts and collapses into bed, crawls up its length so he can bury his face into his pillow.

The entire day and night suddenly weigh on him, and he's asleep in a minute.

He dreams, of course, as he dreams every night, but he dreams of Mark this time. Mark usually makes an appearance in his dreams because they spend so much time together, it only makes sense that he'd show up in sleep, too, but this time it's different. This time they're younger, much younger than they are now and Donghyuck knows that age — right after they had bought the phone, right after Donghyuck's parents had disappeared.

In the dream, Donghyuck is running through the forest, trying to find Mark because he's lost, too, and Donghyuck feels fear like he hasn't felt since he was a child. A complete, whole fear that makes the back of his neck sweat, that keeps his spine cold and his heart races and he's running trying to chase Mark, yelling his name, telling him to come back home.

Of course, it hadn't been this way in real life. Mark had gone into a forest, but Donghyuck had never been there, or chased him. After Donghyuck's parents had been declared dead, Mark's mother and father had begun a long process of getting Donghyuck a home of sorts. Mark and Donghyuck were too young to know what was happening, and Donghyuck only remembers his part: suddenly his parents were gone, and then he was being told he was moving, going to a home with other boys, and everything that had been familiar to him was slowly slipping away.

He was going to an orphanage or a foster home or something of the sorts and Donghyuck just felt sad. He had no fight in him, he'd just nodded and followed orders, said goodbye to Mark quietly every night. Mark hadn't known, he wouldn't find that out until later.

One night Mark's mom had found him and she'd smiled, or tried to smile, and she nodded and Donghyuck knew. He left without telling Mark, lied to his mom and told her he'd said goodbye the night before.

It took an hour to arrive to the processing center in town and another hour for the process to start. There was so much paperwork, and though the rooms were lined with bright colors and posters, it felt cold, so cold. Outside, winter raged. Donghyuck thought of his new life alone and felt himself start to harden and close up and stop believing in the world. Mark and him had dreamed of seeing snow one day, of building snowmen, and Donghyuck tucked that fantasy away in his mind.

The process never finished, though. Donghyuck had dozed off in his chair for what felt like days but must've been a few hours. He was led to a bed, then, and when he woke up, Mark's dad hovered over him.

"Let's go," he said and Donghyuck had looked up at him, scared that this was it and he tried to find traces of Mark in his face so he could say goodbye properly — Mark had his father's eyebrows and wide eyes and Donghyuck's own started to fog over. Everything he had ever felt was suddenly rising from his chest to his throat to the back of his eyes, trying to push them out as tears.

He felt scared, too, and he asked, "Where am I going?"

"We're going home."

Donghyuck didn't understand, and wouldn't understand until later. He rode in the back of the car all the way to Mark's house. His mother was nowhere to be seen.

He was led to Mark's room but Mark wasn't there, either, but he could hear him sneezing from the guest room down the hall. Mark had a fever, apparently, and after a few days he emerged and tackled Donghyuck to the ground.

"I missed you," Mark said like Donghyuck had only been on a vacation, like he hadn't been ready to leave forever and that was when Donghyuck let himself cry. In the arms of his best friend, a best friend he was sure would never leave, would never let him leave.

They never talked about that night, or what Mark did, but when they were older, Mark's mother explained it to him. When Mark found out what had happened — that Donghyuck was going away, possibly forever — he had thrown a fit. His mother had calmed him down, or so it seemed, until she heard a crash from his room and went to investigate. She found a broken window, and when she'd looked out, Mark was running down the street in his pajamas.

Mark's original intent was to catch up to the car that took Donghyuck away, or to find where they had taken him, but after not finding a trace of anything, Mark had just ran. His mother had to call the police and soon their lonely trooper was out in the woods trying to find him, and when he did, Mark had kicked the police officer in the shin and ran deeper into the woods, shouting behind him that he would do this night after night until Donghyuck came home. They had caught him finally, shivering and cold, and brought him home for the night but as soon as he had drank some tea and had a blanket wrapped around him, Mark ran out again. Another chase ensued, this one harder, and maybe it was Marks insistence or the way his small body shivered with the cold but his mother made the decision for Donghyuck to stay. She had called Mark's father, told him to bring Donghyuck home, that they would figure everything out later; and so their lives had braided together again, permanently this time.

Yet, in his dream, Mark wasn't looking for him. Mark was running away, deeper and deeper into the woods and Donghyuck kept screaming his name, telling him he was going the wrong way — when he woke up in a fit, though, he realized Mark wasn't going the wrong way. He had always been running in another direction, away from Donghyuck, from what was familiar, while Donghyuck clung to what he knew, afraid of everything disappearing. This thought made him sad, weighed heavily, but he blinked twice and forgot the dream and soon he was laying back down into bed, asleep again.

—

Lucas shakes the door six times before he gives up. He turns around, looks at Mark, doesn't feel embarrassed but he does feel bad because Mark is shifting his weight from one foot to another, their food swinging slowly in his hold. He's locked out, he forgot the key — he'd been so preoccupied with looking cool and calm and uninterested but interested at the same time for Mark that he'd locked himself out of his own apartment and the more time they wait outside, he thinks, the more time Mark gets annoyed, or bored.

Mark looks at him with those wide eyes, not questioning or pressuring, just looking.

"I forgot my key," Lucas says and Mark nods.

"I can see that. What do we do now?"

He licks his lip, looks Mark up and down and Mark doesn't notice. He looks hungry, not for Lucas but the food so Lucas sighs.

"Just wait here."

And then he's off, down the hall, following the same steps that Sicheng took yesterday and soon he's knocking on the door. He keeps looking over at Mark, who's now spinning in a slow circle, drinking up the hallway like it were the most interesting thing and for a second Lucas thinks he's faking it for his sake. But the more he looks, the more he realizes Mark really is interested — from this distance, Mark looks like he's lost in some indie movie about finding himself, all he needs is moodier lighting and a song playing gently from the shadows. Lucas sighs, then bangs on the door again.

Sicheng opens it at the fifth knock and Lucas is almost annoyed until he realizes why it took so long. Sicheng stands in front of him in just a towel, his short hair wet, the rest of him wet, too, except for the fabric around his hips. He doesn't look embarrassed, though, so Lucas tries not to look it either. Still, his eyes wander and he can feel his cheeks start to warm because Sicheng's body has droplets everywhere and some slide down, accentuate how his body is toned. He's slim, but muscle peeks out from under his skin and Lucas swallows.

"I'm locked out," he declares, doesn't know how to go from there and Sicheng blinks and Lucas blinks and they spend a second admiring each other, or it feels that way.

"Hi." Mark comes out of nowhere, and Lucas turns, feels like he's been caught doing something bad but Mark is smiling, looks happy to meet someone new. "I'm Mark."

"Hi," Sicheng answers, smiles too, his arm moves as if to offer a hand but he has both hands on the towel on his hips so he just nods his head. "I'm Sicheng."

There's another pause and Lucas looks between both boys, a little panicked now, so he forces a grin on his face and it feels like he hasn't smiled in ages and his cheeks almost hurt from the effort but he lets out a laugh like this isn't awkward, like this is the most amusing situation in the world. He laughs again, but no one else does, Sicheng and Mark don't even smile, so Lucas's expression resets into something that looks like surprise: his eyes are wide, his lips stretched into a thin line of concern.

"Can I go to your balcony?"

Sicheng nods and moves out of the way and Lucas enters, hears Sicheng behind him tell Mark that he can come in if he wants and Mark refuses the offer and Lucas is set on going to the balcony but he's distracted. One look around and there's colors everywhere — not in furniture, or on the floor or the walls, but in stacked canvases everywhere, cans of paint, brushes here and there. Nothing is messy, and it looks far from unclean, but there's no way he can ignore the false starts on some paintings, the half-done apples, the faces with blobs of color and only the nose and eyes complete, like instead of painting portraits, Sicheng had taken pictures and was slowly developing them.

Lucas, though, moves with intent, and he only glances around for a second before he's pushing open the sliding door and breathing in the night air again. He's beyond embarrassed, but for now he looks at his own balcony, tries to judge the distance and he looks over the railing.

He could die if he falls off but death seems a better option than to endure what must be happening back in Sicheng's apartment. The balcony itself is square piece of floor and a fence around it, and there's slats of metal going up and down and a horizontal piece a centimeter from the floor so Lucas can swing his leg over, then another, then he grabs the railing with his hands. His ass is against the metal and his chest is pressed up against nothing and he tries his best not to look down.

"What are you doing?"

Sicheng has appeared, and Lucas cranes his neck to turn around and look at him but immediately regrets it. Sicheng has tucked the towel into itself so that it hangs around his waist and stays up on its own but that means there's a lot more of Sicheng's legs exposed. There's a sliver of skin that runs up his thigh, too, and every step Sicheng takes, Lucas can see the muscles tighten and relax and Lucas goes back to looking forward.

"I leave my balcony unlocked," he says, "In case a cat wants to sneak in."

There's some flaw to his logic, but Sicheng doesn't pick it apart. After a beat of silence, Lucas sighs and tries to gauge the distance between their balconies — he can probably cross it if he stretches out his legs as far as they go — and then Sicheng touches his arm. He does more than touch it, he slides his fingers down his arm, wraps them around his wrist and Lucas's heart is racing. He hasn't been touched in so long that this feels like more than it is, and he can only manage a questioning grunt.

"I can hold you so you don't fall, just stretch out," Sicheng says and Lucas nods and soon he's stretching his leg as far as it goes. The tip of his foot touches the edge of his balcony and he slides it, finds purchase and then the rest of his torso leans into it. Slowly, he can feel his weight shifting and Sicheng holds him up well enough that he can swing over and grab the balcony railing with one of his hands. His other hand is behind him, cradled in Sicheng's hands — which are pretty, he noticed — but soon he lets go and Lucas is on the ledge of his balcony, holding on with both hands.

He holds on tight and brings his legs over and then there's a tiny thud.

For a second, he thinks Sicheng must have fallen, but it doesn't make sense logically so he turns and sees Sicheng bending down to pick up his towel that's fallen and Lucas gets an eyeful of skin. He swallows again, warms up, but at least it's dark outside and he can only see the contours of Sicheng's body, and so much skin, but he imagines the rest so by the time he swings his legs over the railing, part of him is brushing up against the railing and he crosses his legs when he stands on his balcony.

"Thanks," he says, means to say more, makes a note to give Sicheng a proper thanks and maybe a gift, but he can't stand to face him after he's seen him naked, so Lucas pulls open his sliding door and makes his way inside.

He doesn't go to the door immediately, instead disappears into his room and finds the picture of him by the nightstand with Jungwoo, shoves it inside the top drawer — just in case, he tells himself — and then he looks around for anything that might look out of place. There's clothes everywhere, underwear hanging from his door, but these things can be explained way. These things are normal artifacts of a twenty-year old's life and so he rushes to the front door, pulls it open.

"Welcome to my home," Lucas says, surprised his voice doesn't crack. He doesn't see Mark, but hears him, and he has to look down where Mark has sat down with his legs crossed on the floor, one of the food containers open. He looks up at Lucas with those big eyes, doe-like and curious. His cheeks are round and full of food and a beat later, he nods, finishes chewing, packs the food back up and stands and makes his way inside.

—

He shouldn't be here, he thinks, in front of Jaehyun's door, but Donghyuck had woken up groggy and sleepy and he'd agreed to meeting Jaehyun without much thought. Mark wasn't there when he woke up, either, and Donghyuck takes this as silent permission to just leave for the night, too. He's going to end up alone but it doesn't have to start when Mark hasn't left town yet. 

There's a moment when he almost asks the phone what he should do, but he figures this isn't serious. He doesn't have to talk to anyone beyond the grave to ask if he should get laid or not, because he's dressed up to get laid — he's wearing sweats, no underwear, a loose shirt that drapes over his frame — and from Jaehyun's texts and the fact that they're meeting up in the middle of the night, he expects to get laid. He can hear Jaehyun's voice and it sounds like he's singing but when he rings the buzzer, Jaehyun's voice goes quiet but another voice is there, droning on, and Donghyuck regrets this suddenly. He turns around to leave but the door opens and Jaehyun is there and that dimpled smile anchors Donghyuck there. He can't leave, no, not when Jaehyun looks at him so warmly, and Donghyuck decides that this is how he should be welcomed into spaces: with the warmest smile, the loveliest glint in someone's eye, the physical proof that he's wanted and desired and Donghyuck practically floats into Jaehyun's place. 

Then he's inside and faces not just one new face, but three. They all look vaguely familiar except Jeno, who he knows from school and Mark's old job at the music studio — Jeno taught drums, he thinks — and they all smile up at him. Donghyuck does his best to smile but he must look angry and pissed, though he's mostly confused. 

"I had the guys over — they're in the band. Well, just Jaemin and Yuta, Jeno's just a groupie — this is Donghyuck, I told you guys about him. He sings," Jaehyun says, walks up behind Donghyuck and throws an arm over his shoulders and for a second it almost feels domestic, like Jaehyun is introducing him to his friends and Donghyuck's stomach flips. He isn't sure if he likes it or is just embarrassed so he empties his head, thinks nothing of this or the smiles that each member gives him.

"We should hang out, see how you fit with the band," Jaemin says, stands up, stretches, "Tell Jaehyun to give you my number."

And then Jaemin smiles and the room lights up for a second, but soon Yuta stands up, too, and they bow their head a little to Donghyuck and Jaemin pats his arms and then they head towards the door. 

"We were just leaving, it's late," Jaemin says, puts up a peace sign and Yuta grunts and follows and only Jeno remains. It's quiet for a second, Jaehyun takes his arm off Donghyuck's shoulders, walks into the kitchen. That leaves Donghyuck and Jeno and Jeno smiles at him, a smile as equally as bright and charming as Jaehyun's and Jaemin's and even Yuta's and Donghyuck looks away, claims a spot on the couch.

"I forgot something here," Donghyuck says, as if he has to explain himself and once he's sitting, he looks at the painting of Jaehyun. He can't place it, but it looks more finished, like it's been worked on but it hasn't even been a day — does Jaehyun have a revolving door of people coming and going from his place? It makes him wonder, but Jeno doesn't let him get too lost in his thought. Donghyuck feels the couch shift as Jeno scoots closer, still smiling.

He knows Jeno, they text sometimes about booking rooms to practice in the studio — Donghyuck records songs sometimes, mostly alone — but they've never been this close. Jeno exists only as an employee of the studio to Donghyuck, not as anything else, especially not as a boy on a couch inching closer and closer to him. Donghyuck doesn't look his way, pretends not to notice, then he stands up suddenly.

"Jaehyun, I'm going into your room," he announces, then falters for a second. He glances at Jeno, who's still smiling, who looks comfortable and draped on the sofa, but that isn't his worry anymore. He's committed to going into Jaehyun's room but if half a band was outside in the living room, he almost doesn't want to find out if anyone else is in his room. Still, he has to follow through if he doesn't want Jeno to get the hint that he's nervous, and soon he's stepping into a dark room. He finds the light switch, and to his relief, it's empty. He sits on the bed, made and neat and without any sign of his underwear anywhere and he waits there. Maybe he should leave, he thinks, but he'll need an excuse for that since he just got there — maybe Jeno will leave and all he has to do is wait, and that's what he's hoping for quietly when Jaehyun enters the room. 

"Hey," he says, rubs his hands on his jeans, gives Donghyuck a smile, "I was making some food — more like snacks, but whatever. You hungry?" 

Donghyuck stands up, meets him halfway. 

"I came for my underwear," he says and flushes at the content of the sentence. Last week he was celibate, and this week he's coming over in the middle of the night to a boy's place over clothing he's forgotten. Damn, at least he needs better excuses because Jaehyun's smile turns into a smirk. He sees right through him, and his arms find Donghyuck's waist. Donghyuck looks up at him, tries to look unreadable, tries to hide the way his heart races and his blood warms and the way his body suddenly has a need — it almost feels empty, like the drum of his heart is echoing through the rest of him but he stands his ground, stands firm, even when Jaehyun's hands slide down to his ass and squeeze. 

"I can get you that, just give me a second," he says, squeezes again, leans in to press a kiss on Donghyuck's lips, then whispers, "Let's have some fun first." 

He almost gives in. Almost. Donghyuck shakes his head, lifts both hands to Jaehyun's chest but he doesn't push away. Instead he rests them there, even rubs up and down and he's losing this battle, so he whispers, "Not with Jeno in the other room — I'm not that horny." 

"Really?" Jaehyun asks, then reaches to the front of Donghyuck's sweats and cups his groin, finds the shape of Donghyuck's dick, already half-hard, twitching with every touch. Donghyuck's eyes close, he looks down. Jaehyun continues, "He won't mind, I promise — he might even want to join in." 

To this, Donghyuck doesn't have words, and even if the thought makes his knees weak, he pulls away and shakes his head and walks past Jaehyun, towards the door. It isn't closed, and when he pushes it open, Jeno is there, smiling at him. Donghyuck pauses, realizes Jeno's smile is gone and he can't place this new expression — it looks like interest and contempt and his gaze is dark, intense, and before Donghyuck knows what's happening, he's leaning forward to crash their lips together and Jeno's hands are around his waist and he pulls him close and he's so strong. He cups Donghyuck's ass and squeezes and Donghyuck can feel his feet leave the ground.

They never quite land again — he feels them brush against the ground as his legs adjust to being carried, but the trip is short, and soon he's tossed onto Jaehyun's bed. He lands on his bottom and he rushes to sit up, to look at the sight in front of him. There's a part of him that says he should run, that this isn't what he wants, but his body is much louder. His body warms at the sight of Jeno taking off his shirt and he twitches at the sight of Jaehyun joining in from the side, almost naked. 

"I've never done this before," he whispers and leans back, lays down as Jeno hovers over him, crawling like a smiling cat and then Jaehyun takes his left hand and brings it to his bare crotch. Donghyuck wraps his fingers around his dick, slides it against his palms, swallows and realizes that he doesn't need experience to enjoy this. That sometimes he doesn't have to be the one worried if everything will go right, he doesn't have to dote on anyone — he can be the center of attention, the main course, and by the way Jeno tugs his sweats and underwear down, it seems like they're on the same page. 

Soon he's flipped on his stomach and he's lifted up for a second time. Jeno arranges Donghyuck's legs on his shoulders and buries his face into Donghyuck's ass, flicks out his tongue before he shoves it inside and Donghyuck's toes curl. His entire body feels heated and his hands grip at the sheets but soon those are off the bed, too, because Jaehyun pulls up his shoulders. His hands roam around Jaehyun's waist, his toned stomach, his chest, and even slide around to grab at what he can of his ass and Jaehyun's hand curls under his neck. 

He looks up at him, tries to open his eyes despite how Jeno kisses the cleft of his ass and drools and leaves the entire thing wet — he feels saliva trickling over his hole, down his taint, dripping past that onto the bed — so he can see Jaehyun's dimpled smile but he's not smiling. He hasn't seen Jaehyun like this, his dark eyes, his look of focus and concentration and Donghyuck feels like the sexiest thing in the world. Their eyes meet and he keeps contact with him until Jeno sinks his teeth into the flesh of his ass cheek and Donghyuck's eyes shut, his mouth open. He never knew he could be so loud, never knew he could cry out the way he does, hitting notes he didn't know he has in him, but Jeno is ruthless and thorough and makes him feel used. 

Jaehyun, too — both hands cup around Donghyuck's neck and Jaehyun guides him forward, pushes his hips so his cock slides on Donghyuck's cheek. His mouth opens weakly and he licks at it, tries to take it into his mouth but Jaehyun just smacks his cheek with it. He swallows, and as he does, he can feel the ridges of Jaehyun's fingers, not quite choking him but there, present, like a necklace and this makes him mewl. 

This goes on for minutes, though it feels like hours, and Jeno's hands wrap firmly around his hips and move Donghyuck's ass forward and backward, like Donghyuck were a fleshlight and Jaehyun treats him the same, like a toy for their pleasure. He finally pulls back and pushes back in and Donghyuck's mouth goes from empty to full in a second. His lips stretch and Jaehyun pushes all the way in until he's choking, but Jaehyun doesn't let go. He keeps his head there, suspended in air, and soon Donghyuck stops moving at all. He relaxes his throat, feels the head of his cock tickle the edge and then Jaehyun starts to move and the rest becomes a blissful blur of white. 

Soon it isn't enough, though, and Jeno drops him back on the bed and Jaehyun pulls out and they arrange themselves like they know exactly what to do. Jeno and Jaehyun sit at the head of the bed, their backs against the wall, their dicks pointed up and proud and they stroke themselves with lube until their cocks are gleaming. 

Donghyuck, meanwhile, fingers him open to the sight, and for a while they stay like this, Jaehyun and Jeno stroking themselves to the sight of Donghyuck in front of them, his legs spread so they can see his fingers slip into his entrance, first one, then two, then he shoves the third inside and throws his head back and Jaehyun curses. He's sweaty — now boiling inside — and he wonders if this makes for a good sight but his own fingers make him hungry. 

"Now," Jaehyun says, reading his mind, but Donghyuck feels a little bratty in the few seconds he allows himself to think, so he goes to Jeno first. Jeno has the biggest dick of them three and Donghyuck swallows, his eyebrows push together. He knows it'll hurt a little but he also knows how good it'll feel — he just has to get used to it first and to his surprise, he doesn't have to do it alone. He straddles Jeno's lap and they kiss, their tongues lapping lazily between them and Jeno grabs his ass, spanks it with both hands, spreads it open and then another set of hands are on him. Jaehyun guides him down, lines up Jeno's cock and soon Donghyuck is sinking back into it, sitting down slowly until his ass is against Jeno's hips and Jeno's buried inside of him. He takes a second to breathe, to exhale, to even groan because he can feel Jeno's cock twitch inside of him and it sends warm waves over his nerves. He feels awash in static, every piece of him alive and when he tries to move, Jaehyun's hands are still on him, helping his hips rock back and forth, up and down. Soon he's doing his best to bounce up while Jaehyun does his best to slam him back down and Jeno's face is twisted in pleasure — he has both arms stretched to either side of him, clutching the sheets. 

"Okay — slow down," he mutters and Donghyuck doesn't want to, he keeps trying to move but Jaehyun's hands are stronger, pull him off. He's glad he left Jaehyun for last because Jaehyun doesn't want Donghyuck to ride him. Jaehyun pushes him on his back, stretches his legs, and Donghyuck feels empty for a brief second before Jaehyun does a nice job of filling him again. 

Jaehyun is experienced, Donghyuck can tell because in a few snaps of his hips, Donghyuck's mind goes numb, empty. He can't think of a single thing that isn't Jaehyun's dick and how it stretches him over and over again — his walls feel used and stretched and almost sore from this alone and Donghyuck's eyes tear up. His arms are limp next to him and he almost doesn't notice when Jeno comes up besides him, keeps him present by slapping one of his cheeks gently and kissing the other. 

"You look so pretty like this," he whispers and Donghyuck's eyes open. His body tightens for a moment and then loosens, and the next thing he knows he's cumming on his own stomach, untouched. He doesn't even want to look at Jaehyun or Jeno — he's partly embarrassed, partly numb — but nothing stops. Jaehyun keeps fucking into him, faster now and soon Jeno's lining up his cock into his mouth and fucking that hole, too, so Donghyuck is full on both ends. His orgasm fades, but he keeps warming up and he can feel the cum pooled on his stomach dripping over both sides. 

Not long after, though, Jeno pulls out and Donghyuck hears him jerk off until there's more cum on his stomach — it falls like hot rain and Donghyuck opens his eyes in enough time to see Jeno with his head thrown back, his tight, toned body tense with all his muscles visible — his hand is on his cock and his neck looks so long like that, stretched and moving with every deep breath he takes. A minute after, Jaehyun pulls out too and cums on Donghyuck's chest and it feels like all this cum is boiling. 

Jaehyun is pretty even when he cums, almost delicate. He doesn't stroke himself so much as he fucks his own hands, his hips always moving, his entire body grinding in waves and the head of his cock peeks out beyond his fingers. Donghyuck watches, fascinated, and soon his cock is spitting out white strands of cum and Donghyuck wishes he could taste it. The rest of Jaehyun is just as tight and tense, his abs hardening with each breath while he rides out his orgasm, the cum spilling out less and less like a hose that's running out of water. In this lighting, he almost looks like a statue — the light from outside is what strikes him and he's sweaty enough that each muscle has a highlight. 

Donghyuck exhales, gives out one last groan and leans his head back. He spreads his limbs out like a starfish and he feels exhausted, too exhausted to think of much and it's Jeno's voice that pulls him out of his impending sleep. 

"That's good for the first round," he says and Donghyuck's knees nearly tremble at the thought of another round. Then Jeno slides two fingers over Donghyuck's stomach and everything is warm again. Jeno mixes their cum and then brings it to Donghyuck's lips and he tastes it, licks it, closes his eyes. He could go for another round, he thinks, if it means it'll feel like this — like he's finally the center of his own world. 

—

From the way Mark texts, Lucas expects to laugh this much. Mark just has to say a single word in between bites and Lucas keeps chuckling, giggling to himself. He's come close to choking a few times and he has to wonder if it's because of what Mark is saying or if it's the fact that he's allowing himself to smile after so long. It's almost like he's had all this laughter inside of him, pent up, waiting for it to break out suddenly. 

Mark has told him about the mole he got removed because it looked too much like a third nipple and he's talking about how he set fire to the local park when he was a kid because he'd thrown fireworks at a duck that had bit his best friend. He also tells him about his parents, how they'd moved away for some reason, into a smaller town. 

"They don't like people," he says and finishes his food. Lucas looks at him, chewing his own, swallowing. 

"And you do?" 

Mark looks at him with a little smirk, even leans his head forward like he's hiding something. 

"Maybe," he says and this sends Lucas into another fit of laughter. Slowly they get up and make their way into Lucas's room and they lay in bed, thinking, talking, all things Lucas had expected. 

"I just need to find a good dance teacher to help me choreograph — I have the main routine down, but, like, I need someone to help me refine it." 

Lucas nods, and the mention of dancing makes him think of Sicheng next door. He's pretty sure he's a dancer, and one thought leads to the next and soon he's thinking about seeing him naked on the balcony so he turns to look at Mark. The younger has a habit of looking up when he talks, like he's watching his words and thoughts and dreams cloud up and swirl on the ceiling and it makes watching him easier. 

He has such a pleasant face, one that wrinkles easily around a smile, one that looks almost cartoonish in an endearing way. He looks happy, and when he doesn't, he always looks a second away from happiness. There is no malice in him and this is his biggest charm, Lucas decides. The thought that someone so bright can exist is a warming thought. He has the sudden urge to protect him, to not let him leave this room without proper protection — almost wants to assign himself to that role. Everywhere Mark would go, Lucas would go, shadowing him, filtering the people that enter his life, keeping this shard of fallen sunlight as bright as the first day they meet. 

"What are you thinking about?" 

The room crashes back into focus and Lucas understands that he's been staring pretty boldly. Mark looks his way, smiling, expectant, no longer talking but staring at him. 

"I'm thinking of you," Lucas says, all cocky and confident and Mark blushes as expected. 

What he doesn't expect is for the touching to start. 

Somehow they go from them both on their backs staring at the ceiling to Mark on top of him. They don't kiss for a while, just let their hands roam — Mark keeps rubbing over Lucas's chest until his hands slide under his shirt, disappear from sight, but Lucas still feels those short fingers going up his stomach, to his chest, then back down again. Lucas's aim is much broader — Mark is thin, but he isn't scrawny. There's meat on his bones and Lucas finds it, squeezes it; his stomach is soft, his thighs are, too, and his ass is the fuller part. The cheeks are fun to squeeze but the bottom part of it, where it connects to his thighs, is the best part to knead. The flesh there bends underneath his touch and Mark moans deliciously. 

Mark's voice, in general, is small when he's touched, like he doesn't mean to use his voice but it comes out anyway. He doesn't look embarrassed, a little shocked, but he never stops moving and soon his face is under Lucas's shirt. He kisses his way down and lifts his ass and his shirt falls, exposes the skin of his back and behind him, his ass is just two curves in the air and Lucas swallows. 

It's been too long, and he wonders if it'll affect anything but Mark's kisses get sloppy and wet and he tongues the waistband of his jeans and Lucas has to lean back and close his eyes. He's already hard, that much is clear when Mark pulls down his underwear and pants and Lucas's dick springs loose and Lucas lets out a breath. 

His dick already feels swollen and tender and sensitive and he keeps his eyes closed because he knows the sight of Mark in front of it would do nothing to make him last long. It's been a while, he keeps telling himself, tries to reassure himself that he can last if he thinks about other things — ice cream and snow and fried chicken and foods because he's never wanted to fuck foods. 

Then Mark says something and Lucas dumbly opens his eyes just as Mark opens his mouth and wraps his lips around the tip of his cock and he slides down like it were the tastiest thing he's ever put in his mouth. His tongue slides all around it, Lucas almost feels swallowed up by it and his dick twitches once, as if in warning. Mark makes it all the way down and the tip of Lucas's cock hits his throat and it feels hard and wet and squishy and Mark only chokes once before he pulls away. His lips are still wrapped around it, and something about Mark's hands fondling his balls, something about the sight of his slick cock coming out of his mouth, suddenly wet and shiny and sticky-looking pushes Lucas to the edge, then past it. 

Mark pulls off and strands of saliva stick from the head of his cock to his lips and Lucas's body tenses as he tries to hold it in but the cum arrives. It spits out of his dick and some of it drips on Mark's cheek but most of it lands on his stomach. Mark lets go of it and his cock slaps against his tensed abs and the rest of it leaks there as it rises and falls with each breath. His heartbeat is in his ears, and he's embarrassed for a moment, thinks that Mark might think less of him but Mark slowly smiles. 

"I'm so fucking good." 

They both laugh, but Lucas turns red and groans and says, "It's been a while." 

"Nope — I'm just that good. It happens," Mark says and they laugh again. Then Lucas points to the nightstand, to the drawer. 

"There's a rag there — get it for me." 

"Our first time hanging out and you're already showing me your dirty cumrag," he says and Lucas can hear the smile on his lips. Then the drawer opens, and Mark tosses the rag at him but there's more sounds, wood bumping against wood. Lucas opens his eyes to Mark looking at a picture and it takes a second for Lucas to realize it's the picture of him and Jungwoo. 

"This is the guy from your profile," Mark says and Lucas tries to speak but he chokes and coughs and cleans himself up as best as he can, wiping away the cum, fighting the urge to just reach over and snatch the picture from Mark's hands.

"Yeah," he says, his voice low, stern, and Mark looks over at him. He's still smiling, doesn't suspect a thing — doesn't know the internal crisis that's going on in Lucas. He feels guilty and he feels caught and he feels all these horrible things and he wonders how all this could be born from Mark's observation, innocent and curious and meaning no harm. 

"Who is it? Your friend?"

"Yeah — yeah, that's my friend." 

"Does he live here." 

"No, he — no. He doesn't live here."

"Do you talk to him a lot? Is it like a best friend situation — I can't imagine living without my best friend." 

"You said you needed a dance coach?"

Mark looks at him, and for a second Lucas thinks he's going to be found out. He thinks Mark will see through him, will know the real story, the tragedy behind his eyes but he just smiles, nods, and the world keeps moving. He sets the picture back in the drawer and that's how they end up in front of Sicheng's door again. Lucas knocks, Mark leans into Lucas and hugs his middle and Sicheng answers the door — clothed this time — and glances at Mark, then Lucas, then smiles. 

Lucas panics for other reasons, but he pulls himself together, tries his best to grin at Sicheng with all his teeth and he swears that Sicheng blushes, as if shy from the attention. 

"You dance, right?" Lucas asks, a little too loud, but Sicheng doesn't seem to mind. 

"Yeah, I do. Why?" 

"I need you," Mark says, peels away from Lucas, attaches himself to Sicheng instead. He lifts a hand to Sicheng's ear and plays with it and Lucas is comfortable with this, as is Sicheng. They share a look and seem to understand and Sicheng steps back and tugs Mark into his apartment, then Lucas follows, then the world seems, for a second, to make sense. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i made a fanart account on twitter @utoniumee !! let's be mutuals

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think ^^ i'll be making art & drawing that ties into this story as i update the chapters.


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